


like a strong cup of coffee

by sundrymunity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AI AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study, F/F, F/M, FHQ, Felching, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PWP, Post-Graduation, Sexswap, Story Collection, Temporary Amnesia, Werewolf AU, coffeeshop, ghost au, lawyer AU, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 54
Words: 77,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundrymunity/pseuds/sundrymunity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of stories that don't usually relate to one another, but may be part of something larger at times. especially true of AUs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. she's like pumpkin spice - warm and smooth, tastes best in bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from seven to seventeen, oikawa's never been 'just' a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i can't resist this pair in any form imaginable
> 
> you can expect more of this for sure

 

Oikawa sprouts up before he does, all leg and no wasted beauty (or so his mom says, wistful for her younger years), and she teases him endlessly about being shorter than her. Iwaizumi tells her she's heavy when she insists on him carrying her regardless and she bites his ear, yelping as she's dropped.

 

  
She's not a girl at all. She's a  _brat_ . Girls are... cute and stuff, Iwaizumi guesses, but Oikawa's just Oikawa. Girls don't get overly competitive, they don't put ice down his shirt, and they  _definitely_ don't bite people. And his friend - this person who wears shorts under her skirts and promptly takes off the frills once she's out of sight of their houses, who wears his boxerbriefs under her uniform in school, who might cry when they fight but hits just as hard - is  _not_ a girl.

 

It changes someday. Iwaizumi doesn't know when. But one day, when they're alone in his room studying for an upcoming test, her legs kick in the air and he watches them, transfixed by the thoughtless motions. They're clean like his mom's. Soft looking. Smooth.

 

  
_All leg and no wasted beauty_ , his mom murmurs from beside him as they watch Oikawa run track their first year in middle school,  _you'll have to be careful, Hajime, Touko-chan's going to need you to keep guys off her._

 

He touches one without thinking, grazes his fingers across the pale skin of her calf, and she reacts by drawing away with a gasp and wide eyes as she flips over. Iwaizumi stares back, his heart beating fast and hand raised.

 

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa's voice is just above a whisper, high but not scared, "don't do that. I thought you were a bug just now."

 

"Sorry." He drops his hand back onto the bed, and she pulls her legs under her as she scoots forward toward him. Her fingers brush his and he fists the sheets, pulling away with the same motion.

 

"Is something wrong, Iwa-chan? You're all red."

 

"I'm fine. Do you want something to eat? I'll go grab something downstairs."

 

Oikawa drops her smooth legs off the bed and follows him, bare feet familiar with the wood. Iwaizumi wishes she'd just stay where she'd been with her tucked skirt and slender fingers. "I'll come with you. I don't want to study anymore anyway. It's boring."

 

He gets to watch her as they're wasting time in the kitchen. When had she started growing out her hair more? It's held up by cute pins and a scrunchy, but she lets it out as they're standing in silence and plays with the curls. Oikawa twists them once, twice, wraps them around her finger and lets them spring out, repeating the motion in clear boredom.

 

(Oikawa laughs once, twice, wraps Iwaizumi around her finger and keeps him there.)

 

He speaks before he even realizes it, caught up in the way her light pink lips pucker out as she thinks. "I thought having long hair was a pain."

 

"It is. But I kind of like it," she sticks the pins in her mouth and the scrunchy around her wrist as she puts it back up. It's sloppier than before. Her mom did it first, maybe? "It's a pain, but I don't mind it so much now. I look good, right? I keep getting compliments about it."

 

Iwaizumi shrugs, arms crossed and eyes dropping down to the ground. He stares at her feet and remembers them covered in dirt. She tucks one behind her ankle and that draws his gaze back to her legs, though Oikawa doesn't notice as she tries to fix her hair again. From her toenails painted a light orange to the smooth, toned muscle of her calves, up to the pleated skirt that brushes in dark contrast to her light skin; from the hips he can see curving outwards to the swell of breast she's been developing about a year now, arms framing her face as she sticks out her tongue in concentration.

 

Oikawa Touko, Iwaizumi realizes, is a girl.

 

  
A pretty girl. A  _very_ pretty girl who steps closer and asks him if he'd put her hair up for her, a sly reason to stand close to him in an innocent gesture of her comfort with him, and without a word he clumsily pulls the locks through and pins it up. She only complains once at the roughness - she has a tender head, always has - but thanks him with a tossed smile that makes him jerk back a little and rub the back of his burning neck, looking away as he mutters  _whatever_ and grabs snacks to bring back up.

 

  
Iwaizumi's mom gives him a knowing grin when Oikawa leaves, her fingers wiggling in contrast to his slow wave, and he refuses look anywhere but his dinner when she mentions that  _Touko-chan really is growing up, isn't she?_  

 

  
_She is_ , he agrees in his head.  _I don't know how to feel about it._  

 

"Oikawa's still Oikawa," he replies instead, "she's still a crybaby and a brat."

 

  
Summer means a break. It also means their usual sports camp, and Iwaizumi joins his teammates in watching the girl's swimming team as they practice. Oikawa could never decide on one sport - she's naturally athletic and in her apparently sound logic the situation's something like ' _Wh_ _at's the point if boys and girls can't be on the same team? I'd want to be with Iwa-chan._ ' - but it doesn't matter, because she's  _leagues_ ahead of the girls she's against and when one of the boys comments on her 'nice form', he resists the urge to punch him. Barely.

 

Oikawa comes out of the water, lifting her goggles to her forehead and laughing with the runner up in the lane beside her. Iwaizumi catches her eye and she grins, waving, and even though some of the other guys wave back too he knows it's for him.

 

  
That feeling becomes less prominent as they get older, when more guys start to notice her and she starts to flirt more. Iwaizumi's not stuck on the sidelines or anything - whenever there's something wrong, when she just wants to hang out, when her hair needs to be braided or fixed she goes straight to him - but it still  _sucks_ . He sticks his hands in his pockets and waits for Oikawa to stop talking to her boyfriend, a high schooler who's convinced she really is going to Aobajousai next year ( _Two years_ , Iwaizumi thinks,  _we're not graduating until next year_ ). They part with a kiss that boils in his stomach and he pretends not to have seen it.

 

Oikawa doesn't say a word about it either, just laments that Iwa-chan's taller than her now, even by a bit, and asks if he'll take her to an ice cream parlor.

 

  
Iwaizumi teases her about gaining weight, but does and they split the bill so it doesn't feel  _too_ much like a date, even if he kind of wouldn't mind that.

 

  
When they go to the New Year's Festival that year, she kisses him under fireworks, holding the hand of her  _actual_ date, and Iwaizumi doesn't know if it's the crowd looking up around them or the feeling of her lips pressing against his but his mind goes blank and he feels a little overwhelmed, heat rolling over his body and the smell of the explosions branded painfully into his memory. Oikawa leans back onto the ground and winks up at him, turning to watch the fireworks and Iwaizumi's forced to push it out of his mind despite his racing pulse.

 

It's his first kiss, but it's not their last.

 

  
At seventeen Iwaizumi gets his first girlfriend, a quiet and pleasant classmate who's got a cute smile with dimples and short, brown hair she tends to play with when talking to him. She's  _amazing,_  but he feels himself hesitating to call out to his childhood friend when he sees her down the hall to tell her the good news. The ' _sure_ ' of the past becomes the question of ' _will (Oikawa) be okay with this_ ' and he ignores the reason he cares, considering Oikawa's always the one who teases him about not having a girlfriend yet. She'd probably like the girl anyway. She usually gets along with everyone.

 

  
Oikawa declares the girlfriend  _a_ _bore_ after a surprise double date with them, body tucked into Iwaizumi's side despite the fact she's got a boyfriend herself, and the elated feeling of a new crush lasts an hour top, ceasing like his heart when his friend wraps her arms around his neck and tugs him down just a bit to close the distance between them. His hands grip her waist firmly, but he doesn't push her away or pull her any closer; he's just as guilty in this act, and it eats at him until he breaks up with his girlfriend a week later.

 

  
"I might like you a lot, Iwa-chan," Oikawa murmurs sleepily, body slicked with sweat and room stifled with sex. Iwaizumi grunts to acknowledge the maybe, chest aching and arm tingling where she lays on it. He runs his fingers through her hair, twisting the curls lightly, and wonders why the  _fuck_ was she doing this with him  _now_ of all times, of all  _people_ , when she's dating someone who'd been looking at her  _all day_ ?

 

  
Apparently he'd asked the question out loud, because she leans back and stares at him, chestnut eyes conveying the annoyance her voice lacks. "Because he's been asking the  _world_ from me, and you haven't asked anything. And I wanted to. Simple as that."

 

  
"Alright," he says. That's fine. It's fine because he's got a feeling she's gonna break up with that guy anyway, and they're going to end up like this whether or not he wants it (and he wants to end up like this, because Oikawa is someone he feels like he should take care of and protect even if she handles herself so well, because he has to admit she's grown into a beautiful woman who annoys the shit out of him in one breath and takes away his the next, because he might like her a lot, too). Oikawa lifts herself and lays on him, chest to chest, head against his shoulder, and Iwaizumi wraps an arm around her slender waist. There's a moment where they just both  _breathe_ , where it's the comfort of their closeness over what  _should_ be an awkward afterglow, and he rubs her back idly. He should be more angry at her and himself. But he's just resigned and a little annoyed. "You should've broken up with him first."

 

"I did while I was riding you."

 

Iwaizumi makes a face at her crass words, reminded of the kid so long ago that'd lift her skirt in front of boys to laugh at their recoiling reactions, and pinches her side. She squeaks and wiggles, pouting at him. A smile starts to tug at his lips and he forces a frown instead, laying his head to the side with a sigh.

 

  
"I don't know how  _anyone_ calls you ladylike. You're a  _terror_ ."

 

"And annoying, stupid, vain... Anything else you'd like to add, Iwa-chan?"

 

"Heavy," he bites back a grin at her huff and the soft slap on his arm. "And loud."

 

  
Oikawa props her chin on her arms and smiles impishly. "You didn't seem to mind it  _that_ much, Iwa-chan."

 

"Shut up and sleep, dumbass," Iwaizumi pushes her laughing head to the side and tries to pretend that his cheeks aren't burning from the spoken truth. She stays quiet for a bit and, with the soft exhale of her breath against his skin, Oikawa really has done as he's asked for once. He squeezes his eyes shut and wonders what's next.

 

  
They don't date or anything like that, but Oikawa starts turning down guys that confess to her more often than she gives in and Iwaizumi's life starts filling up with her piece by piece again, like how it used to be. She calls him  _Hajime_ once, standing together over a river feeding birds. The wind flutters her hair against his arm and he thinks to call her  _Touko_ in reply, but settles with  _dumbass_ and she laughs.

 

Same old, same old.

 

  
(On the opposite, Iwaizumi Hajime is a pulling force Oikawa revolves around, held together by his gravitation and presence, yet given the freedom to move beyond her usual boundaries. She knows he's always been cute, turning handsome and - dare she say it - downright  _sexy_ these past few years, and she might've played a part in all the girls staying from him. Oikawa leans against him as she tosses down more rice and feels a smile tug at her lips like her heart does at his hand snug against her hip.

 

She breathes in, lets it out, and enjoys what she's got now. The future can wait.


	2. straight black, cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and one day it just gives out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of people write this kind of thing but i still wanted to do it.

 

  
Hospital visits aren't rare, and Iwaizumi always makes sure to bring something to do while he waits. It's become something like bringing your pet in for a physical - except the dog in question's in for physical  _therapy_ . That's what happens when you continue to work your knees, no matter the amount of rest you get one day out of the week. It gets  _worse_ . You get  _unlucky._

 

But Oikawa never looks pained or sad about these visits. He just waves his hands and smiles apologetically, laughing it off like it's a case of bad weather. The team's satisfied; the coach is wary but figures Oikawa knows his own limits.

 

Iwaizumi's not sure if he wants to hug or strangle the dumbass.

 

"All good?" He asks when he sees Oikawa coming down the hall. The other gives him an OK sign and he stands, stuffing the book he's gotta finish by the end of the day tomorrow back into his bag and carrying both of theirs.

 

Neither of them speak at first - Iwaizumi's not gonna bring it up, and Oikawa doesn't need to - but when the setter leans on one leg and winces, well, that's a good a time as any.

 

"Are you really okay, or are you talking out your ass?"

 

"Really, Iwa-chan, it's fine! I just put a little too much weight on it, that's all, my leg's sore from therapy today." It's at least half bullshit, Iwaizumi can see, but Oikawa refuses to look at him. That's how he knows. He doesn't press the issue, knowing Oikawa'll say something else, and doesn't think he hears it right the first time.

 

  
"--  _What?!_ "

 

Oikawa moves forward first, leading with his left, and waves his hand. Iwaizumi's left to stare at his friend's back, fists clenched and really tired of the other pretending like it's alright, and follows.

 

"I just... I don't want to play next year," there's a strain in his voice that says otherwise, "you know? I was thinking of just focusing on college."

 

Well, it's solid enough for most people. But Iwaizumi knows Oikawa, sees the way he resists his usual gait, and punches him solidly on the shoulder.

 

"Ow!! Are you trying to send me back to the hospital, Iwa-chan?!"

 

"If I do, are you gonna tell me the truth?"

 

Oikawa looks away from him, rubbing his shoulder. Iwaizumi feels his anger fizzle out when the silence stretches on and he pushes Oikawa forward as he's always done.

 

They'll talk later.

 

  
'Later' is next Monday, when they've got their mandatory day off (it's for Oikawa, who claims it's for the team), after a week of avoiding the topic and carefully observing the way the setter lands on one foot more than the other. A week of reluctantly letting Oikawa lock up on the swear he won't do ' _just one more serve, Iwa-chan_ ' and wondering why the other can't just let him help with cool down stretches. A week of watching Oikawa and infuriatingly getting no closer to the reason of why he'd want to stop playing.

 

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa's tone is light despite the topic to come, "what'll you do after high school?"

 

Iwaizumi pauses in watching TV and lowers the volume, looking over at the other. Oikawa's doodling on a piece of paper he should be working on, though he keeps sneaking glances up at him even after he's caught the first time.

 

"I dunno. I guess I'll do something or other." It's true. He doesn't really have plans, figuring that Oikawa'll drag him around anyway. "You?"

 

Oikawa shrugs. Goes back to making swirls on his paper and glancing at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi stares hard at him and turns back to the TV, keeping it at its current level.

 

"I said I was going to focus on college, didn't I? I don't know what I'll major in though."

 

"You're majoring in being a pain in the ass right now, you piece of shit. Didn't you say once you'd keep playing until you died?"

 

"When we were kids! You can't expect me to hold such odd promises now," though he's always been good at them. Iwaizumi's gut twists in an odd way and he takes a breath.

 

"It's your knee, right?"

 

Hit the nail on the head, as usual. Oikawa sets down his pencil quietly and lays back, staring upside down at Iwaizumi's irritated expression.

 

"... Iwa-chan, it actually looks like you're smiling right now--"

 

"Answer the question, asshole!"

 

Oikawa's lips press into a line and he sits up, rubbing his knee self-consciously though his pants.

 

"Even though they've been doing all they can, they think I'll have to get surgery for it. I'll have to a long recovery too, if that's the case, so... This is my last year, Iwa-chan."

 

  
Each word's another drop in the bucket, and the detatched tone just dumps the cold water onto him. It's not uncommon. Injuries are part of an athlete's life, both game-threatening and not. But to think it'd happen to... No, it's  _exactly_ because it's Oikawa that it happened.

 

  
"That's what you get for not listening to your doctors, dumbasskawa," but he's already moving to lean against Oikawa's shaking form, the setter gripping his knee tight. Iwaizumi carefully peels the hand away and sets it aside. "So what? You've said it yourself - there's more to life than volleyball, and we're gonna be number one this Spring High anyway. We'll beat  _everyone_ ."

 

  
"I-- I know that," Oikawa replies with a wavering voice as he turns and buries his face into Iwaizumi's shoulder. He repeats it again in a softer mumble as Iwaizumi rubs his back in circles .

 

  
_But I want to keep playing_ , the wetness tells him. Even after their promise is kept. Volleyball may not be life, but it's still something Oikawa loves with every fiber of his being. Iwaizumi knows this, but he can't do anything to comfort the friend he's known for so long except be his tissue, scolding only for being blown into.

 

It makes Oikawa laugh, at least, and the crying settles down to a hiccough. The teen sits up, wiping his eyes, and Iwaizumi lets him lean back out of his grasp. He's okay now.

 

"Promise me you'll play for me? I'll go wherever you go," Oikawa says as he looks at his hands, "so I want you to keep playing."

 

"You're so selfish. What about my dreams, huh? I don't want to keep playing volleyball until I die, shittykawa." But it's not as mean as he wants it to be, knowing already he's gonna probably end up doing just as Oikawa asks. "... If I've got nothing better to do in college, I'll join up."

 

  
Still, at what point in their lives did it become _'I'll go wherever you go''_  instead of _'Come with me, Iwa-chan''_ ?


	3. frapps are tooth-achingly sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's just a normal thing, now, waking up and remembering who it is he's dating.

  
Dating Oikawa may be tiring, it may be exactly like  _not_ dating him (with the added bonus of a few rights each has towards the other), but it's... rewarding... Or so Iwaizumi tries to console himself as he's pinned beneath the heavier's sleeping weight, too hot for this shit. Oikawa's not that pretty of a sleeper, drooling the way he is, but the soft snores are something of beauty. Mostly because it's quiet otherwise.   


 

  
The birds are chirping outside, risers earlier than they, and after a look at his watch Iwaizumi realizes that  _one_ of them has a class in half an hour and neither of them have eaten, showered, or brushed their teeth. But Oikawa's not going anywhere, even if he can tell the other's starting to wake up. His fingers curl and he pulls more into himself, away from Iwaizumi, with a long yawn. Iwaizumi feels one coming up too and presses his lips in an line against it, exhaling softly.   


 

"Good morning, Iwa-chan," Oikawa mumbles sweetly, staring up at him sleepily. Even if he wasn't a pretty sleeper, there was no denying that-- "Ah, your heart's beating faster~. Wanna have morning sex?"

 

"No. Get off before I shove you off, I have class in half an hour and I don't want to be late for this one."

 

  
"Awww, you're no fun. Just a quickie? It'll wake us both up," in a tone that makes it reaaally tempting just to give in, especially when Oikawa's eyes light up and he scoots closer, tongue flicking out to meet Iwaizumi's lips. He resists the urge to go ahead and kiss the idiot he'd unfortunately agreed to date, instead turning his head away. "Iwa-chaaaan come oooon don't be a booooore... You don't want to walk into class with  _this_ , do you?"   


 

Iwaizumi hisses as his boyfriend grinds against his half-hard cock, smirk widening. "Not now, Oikawa. I'm serious."

 

"So am I! I don't want everyone to know that you've got such a nice dick, Iwa-chan, only I should know that." It'd be arousing if Oikawa wasn't pouting like a kid. Iwaizumi pushes him off and quickly gets off the bed, much to the other's obvious dismay.

 

  
"Later, when I'm  _not_ about to be late for a class and you don't have the worst morning breath known to man."   


 

Oikawa gasps and covers his mouth, sitting up. "I do not. My breath smells like rainbows and sun dew when I wake up!"

 

"I'd rather kiss someone minty, thanks." He bites back a grin at the other's still-offended face and figures that he can grab a bite to eat on the way to class, maybe a cup of coffee to keep himself awake through the three hour lecture, after glancing at the time. Oikawa's face becomes increasingly upset when he realizes he's not gonna get anything slow and teasing (like hell Iwaizumi'd ever give him a strip show) and huffs, rolling to face the wall.

 

"Have a good day at class, then. I'll just be here all alone, abandoned by my boyfriend," the label still makes his stomach flip and he knows it does Oikawa's too, "in my time of sexual need."

 

"Your 'time of sexual need' is a twenty-four hour deal. Like hell I'm gonna be able to keep up with that. Make sure you don't sleep in, or your boyfriend'll come back and eat in front of you."

 

"You wouldn't!"

 

  
The solid shut of the door tells him he would, and he hears Oikawa scramble to get up from within. Changes his clothes and comes into the small bathroom brushing his hair. Iwaizumi smirks slightly and scoots enough so that they're not totally bumping elbows when they brush their teeth. This place is  _seriously_ made for one person.   


 

  
"I'll walk you to class," Oikawa says as he messes with his bangs. "We'll grab something quick to eat together. I'll stick it out at the library or something until  _my_ class."   


 

"They're fine, stop messing with them like that. You wake up perfect." It's absolutely sarcastic at the end, but Oikawa smiles sweetly and sighs, watching his boyfriend in the mirror.

 

"Thanks, Iwa-chan, but I'm afraid I just can't trust the word of a gorilla like yourself-- Ow!!"

 

Iwaizumi draws his elbow back and tousles Oikawa's hair, snorting at the other's distressed groan and dodging the half-hearted kick. "Hurry up, your highness, or I'll leave without you."

 

  
"One minute!" There's a mutter that sounds suspiciously similar to  _how normal people like Iwa-chan can't possibly understand how much goes into such a pretty face_  (he does, for the record, considering whenever Oikawa asks him to stay over he does and he has to deal with the rituals), but they're on their way.   


 

Breakfast is skipped for just coffee ("I'll make something for you, Iwa-chan~ ♥" "Please don't.") and Iwaizumi relishes the three hour break from Oikawa... for about half an hour, when he glances down and sees his phone light up. Rolls his eyes and sneaks a peek at what the text is before deciding to ignore the emote of a kissy face in favor of keeping his face straight.

 

It lights up the longer class goes on and, against his better judgement, he keeps scrolling through the messages when he's got nothing else to do. Most are the usual mess of how bored Oikawa is, or how much he misses him, a few pictures of people walking around and casual critques of their clothing (Oikawa'd know, he's hoping to get his own designs out there since he part times as a model), some selfies of him looking "totes cute ☆"... and the latest makes him flip his phone shut so fast he's ninety-five percent sure his teacher heard it.

 

...

 

Or not. Iwaizumi breathes a small sigh of relief, ears tinged red when the girl beside him laughs softly, and he finally shoots a text back at Oikawa.

 

'what the fuck, oikawa.'

 

  
'don't like?? i'm heartbroken, iwa-chan, i thought you might be bored in class and i decided to send you a nice picture to cheer you up... (*/ω＼*)'   


 

  
'don't _._ ' Is all he replies with, and he ignores his phone for the last hour of class.   


 

  
There are fifty messages when he gets out.  _Fifty_ . Oikawa's been in class for  _half_ of those, from the timestamp and the comments about how math is 'sooooooo booooooring iwa-chan (｡≍ฺ‿ฺ≍ฺ)!!!'   


 

He tells Oikawa to pay attention in class and goes to wait outside the building. Close to half an hour later, the texts finally stop and Oikawa greets him with an arm around his neck, kissing his cheek quickly and pulling the bewildered man to the alley of the building.

 

  
"In  _public_ , Oikawa?"   


 

  
"I'm just happy to see you, Iwa-chan, I  _really_ couldn't stop thinking about you." Oikawa's lips are making good use of themselves, pressed against the soft spot just under his jaw and moving down. Iwaizumi makes a strangled noise in his throat when his arms get pinned and there's a leg between his, and his pulse quickens further at the breathy laugh against his skin. "Oh, my, it seems you're just as eager."   


 

"Oikawa..." It's a warning tone, one that his boyfriend blatantly ignores in favor of grinding up his leg and leaning his head against Iwaizumi's shoulder, the sweetest sounding word coming out his mouth between shameless kisses.

 

"Please?"

 

He has two choices. Say yes, face someone most definitely catching them. Say no, deal with Oikawa's persistent whining.

 

He's got no choice. "No. Private place or nothing."

 

"Iwa-chaaaaaan."

 

Iwaizumi doesn't say a thing, just stares straight ahead at the wall in front of him until Oikawa draws back enough to meet his gaze pitifully. Absolutely heartbroken, but he's too used to it at this stage of his life. Not even lips pressing against his own, mint flavored from Oikawa's usual appliance of chapstick, can persuade him. Nor the persistent tongue trying to open them up. Oikawa leans back with a huff, cheeks puffing slightly, and takes a step back. Crosses his arms. Glares.

 

"Fine. But you have to make this up to me somehow, so you'd better start thinking." Oikawa takes his hand and Iwaizumi exhales softly in relief, heart pounding loudly. Close one. "I'm hungry anyway."

 

  
"Weren't you planning to make me something?"  _Moron_ , his voice implies. Secretly thankful he's not. His boyfriend's not  _bad_ at cooking, but Iwaizumi'd rather not have to clean up after him. Because he'd most certainly consider it 'done' and try to start something.   


 

Oikawa shrugs. "Sorry, you'll have to take a raincheck on that. Let's go to that bistro you liked. It had a nice atmosphere."

 

  
They saw, they came, they conquered. Oikawa's in a much better mood at the bistro, knocking his legs against Iwaizumi's in their booth and laughing. They've been out together in the past, but not exactly on dates. It was only when they became official (thanks to an untimely breakup) that Oikawa started really treating him to things like this, complete with small flirts that frankly riled Iwaizumi up enough to kick him. But they're not empty teases - Oikawa is a sincere person when it comes to feelings, even if he can twist his words to play them, and he takes other's romantic inclinations as seriously as his own - and Iwaizumi usually finds himself trading them right back in his own way ( _Bumbling yet endearing_ , Oikawa tells him once while they're curled against the winter chill,  _completely Iwa-chan. I_ love  _it._ ).   


 

"Do you think we'll get married, Iwa-chan?"

 

An oddly comfortable moment, like how it'd been months ago, and Iwaizumi answers without even thinking about it.

 

"I'd hate to be."

 

"That's mean! I want to spend the rest of my life with you--"

 

"It's not like I can get rid of you in the first place, so why even think that we won't?"

 

Oikawa stares at him, mouth slightly agape, and he sinks against the cushions with his hands pressing against his cheeks. It slowly dawns on Iwaizumi what he's implying and he feels his face burn just as hot, but presses his lips together firmly. Nope. Not saying a word. Nope no no no--

 

"You're romantic in your own way," his boyfriend breathes as he slides his hand across the table and takes Iwaizumi's, "you really are. It's so strange, but even if you just insulted me with that my heart's beating fast."

 

  
"Shut up, you ass, don't narrate your feelings like that." It's  _embarrassing_ .   


 

Oikawa squeezes his hand pushes his plate away with the other, burying his face into his arm. Peeking over it at Iwaizumi, ears a crimson color. "You'd better hold to that, Iwa-chan. I don't appreciate people who don't stick to their word."

 

  
"I've always kept my word, haven't I?" Oh, god, he's  _actually accidentally asking Oikawa to marry him_ . And he  _accepted_ . Iwaizumi's not sure how to feel other than extremely embarrassed and he closes his eyes, wishing it was just a dream. Please let him wake up.  _Please_ . That's  _merciful_ .   


 

"... I didn't think you'd propose without a ring ready," he hears, and he kicks the source of his current (and forever) pain in the ass. Oikawa yelps and returns the favor, grinning widely despite his blush marred face. "That's so like you, though, speaking so straightforwardly."

 

Hesitance, something Iwaizumi can feel in the quiet tensing of Oikawa's fingers in his, then: "Do you mean it?"

 

  
He'll regret it. He'll regret it to the end of his days, into every life they have together, but he nods. What's a lifetime? It's not like he'd be able to leave this guy alone - not that Oikawa would ever not be by his side anyway, together or not, married or not. That's just a fact. Iwaizumi's all prepared for a loud shout of joy, something exceptionally  _Oikawa_ , and is relieved and a little surprised when there's just a breathless, disbelieving laugh. But even that's unmistakably Oikawa, undeniably Tooru, and when he opens his eyes it's a sight that squeezes his heart just right.   


 

Oikawa's got his arm crossed over his eyes, sitting back with a bright, genuine smile. There's a deep red color just above, stretching hiding in the roots of his chestnut hair and crawling down into his clothes. He clears his throat to speak, opening his mouth, and Iwaizumi feels himself being the flame this time as he rounds the table, hands still locked tight, and kisses not the first, not the last, but simply one in a lifetime of mistakes he'd gladly make again.


	4. kids shouldn't have coffee - but the ice cream's fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day one of iwaoi week: they're just kids, but oikawa's already dreaming of world domination

 

  
The heat is  _unbearable_ . Their clothes stick to them, though only one is actively complaining about it and the other's actively complaining about  _him_ , but it isn't as bad as it could be. There's a distance from one boy to the next on the slight incline, and Hajime turns to watch his whiner of a friend struggle.

 

"Oiiii, hurry up."

 

"I'm coming!! This place is too far though, I'm tired..." Tooru groans, sagging with each step. Hajime rolls his eyes and takes his hand, pulling him along.

 

"It's not that far now. And it's got water, so you can rest your dumb feet."

 

They're going to one of Hajime's favorite spots to hang out, a little further into the woods than their usual ventures, and Tooru's not sure if he's happy that his friend wants to show him or angry that he has to walk so far. But with Hajime's hand in his and the hot summer sun scattered across the rooted path, he thinks it might be the first.

 

Seeing the place itself - a small pond with a similarly small waterfall falling into it, small fish swimming through it, but it's all so big to two small boys - makes him take back his complaints and he sits at the edge of the water, swirling his hand through the algae. Hajime sits down beside him waving the two fishing poles he'd brought meaningfully.

 

"That's why I brought these with us."

 

"Do y'think we'll catch something, Iwa-chan?"

 

"I told you, don't call me that!" With a bop on the head with one of the poles, which he hands over. "Probably. But we have to let it go 'cause they'll start stinking on the way back."

 

Tooru rubs his head and takes the pole, waving it around slightly. Oooh. That's a nice thought - fighting against each other with a sword or something. but tiring, too. Hmm. Maybe just Iwa-chan doing it. "Iwa-chan, have you ever thought about, like, if we were samurai or something?"

 

"... Did I hit your head too hard? Dummy, why would I ever think about something like that."

 

"You're right, you're about as creative as your name, Iwa-chan-- Ow!! That hurt!"

 

"Good."

 

Lines cast and wind blowing, Tooru tries again. "What if I was like, a prince or something?"

 

"... I guess that fits you," Hajime says after a moment, and immediately crushes the other's happiness. "You're bratty enough to be one."

 

He always tells it like it is. But they're harmless barbs, even if Tooru huffs and calls him a horse. They're quiet after a bicker and Hajime's line tightens, a small fish coming out with the tug. It flounders uselessly in the hair until it ends up on top of Tooru's mess of chestnut hair and he shrieks, pole falling to the side as he backs up into a tree.

 

  
"You're so mean, you jerk! Who even does that?!" Hajime laughs harder and lets the fish go, grinning widely at his friend. His anger simmers into an annoyance instead and he looks away. "But I'll forgive you 'cause I'm a bene-- beni-- benevo-- a  _kind_ prince!"

 

  
"Yeah, right, you might trick the teachers into thinkin' so, but  _I_  know you're just a crybaby."

 

  
As if on cue, Tooru feels his eyes prick with tears and he crouches down, burying his face into his knees with a mutter ' _I am not._ ' He hears the other boy sigh and come closer, feels his hand petting his head and feels a small wave of comfort from it.

 

"I dunno if you cry for real or if it's just a trick too, but..." There's a lengthy enough pause that makes him look up, burning cheeks wet despite his efforts to keep it in, and Hajime's got his head turned enough that Tooru can only see his reddening ears. "I'll, uh. I'll make sure that you don't cry too much, you baby. So no one'll find out."

 

"... Iwa-chan, you can be my knight."

 

"-- What?"

 

"My knight," Tooru repeats resolutely as he takes the other's hand and holds it, a laugh bubbling up from his excitement. He looks seriously at the boy and speaks in a mock-formal tone. "Since I am a prince, you are to be my knight. Okay?"

 

  
Hajime's face is one of shock at first, but it turns into annoyance as he sits down in front of the 'prince' and rolls his eyes. "You're stupid as always. How'd your mind switch tracks so fast? Moron. And I told you,  _don't call me that_ ."

 

"You shouldn't insult your prince so much, Iwa-chan." He draws himself up and grins brightly, squeezing Hajime's hand in his own. Prince Tooru and Sir Iwa-chan. That was nice. "Hey! Let's play pretend with this, okay? I'll rule the land and you can beat up people for me."

 

"There's no way I'm gonna do that. It sounds dumb," but he's getting up and pulls Tooru with him, collecting their poles and staring at the pond.

 

The small, self-proclaimed prince watches the water ripple in awe and smiles. "This'll be our starting point. We'll start here and I'll rule the forests. Then we'll take over the playgrounds and make the other kids pay us candy to play."

 

"You sure do have big dreams, huh."

 

"They're not dreams, Iwa-chan." Tooru turns and pulls him along as Hajime will always let him, stepping forward brazenly over the roots of the path on the way down. "I'm gonna do it."


	5. airport coffee sucks i promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day two of iwaoi week: first time fliers

It's crowded and stuffy, the smell of people overpowering, and while Oikawa tries to keep from being overwhelmed - he's around crowds like this all the time! He's got no reason to be so anxious! - Iwaizumi reaches out and grabs his hand, warm and steadfast. It has an instant calming effect on him, the loudness of everyone drowned out by the simplest act of their friendship, and he turns to tease.

 

"Scared, Iwa-chan? I promise I won't leave you in the airport."

 

"You're the one who looks like he's about to drop dead, dumbass, and you can't leave without me anyway. I have the tickets."

 

"-- What?! I thought I had them!" But Iwaizumi produces both of them, hefting his bag back up as they continue steadily through the line. Oikawa feels a pout forming and lets it. "When did you get those?"

 

"This morning. I don't trust you not to lose them somehow. Especially with how much you're bringing along." Or, in Iwaizumi-language, he's just as nervous and needed something important to hold onto. Oikawa squeezes his hand and feels it returned in kind. A warm sort of feeling swells up in him, like the summer breezes he'd feel when perched atop something or other. It must show on his face, because Iwaizumi pushes him forward and growls, "Why did you pack so much anyway? We're gonna get stuff while we're there, you idiot, we're staying the month."

 

"I'm sentimental, Iwa-chan. And you should absolutely trust me. I've never let you down, have I?"

 

Iwaizumi snorts but doesn't reply, and they get their plane tickets without fuss. The screening's a little nerve-wracking too, even if neither of them have anything to worry about, but the gently brush of his friend's shoulder next to his comforts Oikawa as it always has. The breeze is a chilly gale, swirling almost painfully around him as he realizes they're leaving, they really are, they're going away for a month and the time difference is gonna be a pain in keeping in touch with anyone--

 

"Move it, dumbass, the world doesn't stop just 'cause you want it to." It's got a double effect; it grounds Oikawa and he goes forward with more than just his feet, taking one last look at the entrance of the airport as they gather their stuff and sit to figure out where their flight is. Iwaizumi studies the map as Oikawa plays with the zipper of his bag.

 

"... We got everything we needed before we left, right Iwa-chan?"

 

  
"Yeah. We made a checklist with the others and marked out every single thing on the list last night  _and_ this morning," he replies distractedly. Oikawa watches him from beneath his curly bangs and stops playing with the zipper, sitting up straight.   


 

"Okay."

 

  
They move on, heading down to their terminal, and Oikawa complains about how far it is. So far. Like his legs around gonna give out, Iwa-chan, they'll give out and he won't be able to move for  _days_ , and he'll die eating airport food--   


 

"Don't be such a drama queen, we're almost there, dumbasskawa."

 

"I really have a problem with you calling me that, Iwa-chan." Not really. Only sort of. But it's a starting point. An ease into what they always do, a sort of normalcy one can expect for being friends for so long and knowing the ins and outs of the other.

 

  
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes - he can  _feel_ it. "I had a problem with you callin' me 'Iwa-chan,' but you kept doing it. So I think I'm allowed to call you whatever I want at this point."   


 

"Iwa-chan is cute though! The nicknames you give me are just hurtful."

 

"They're just true."

 

Oikawa wishes so many things didn't separate them - the bags for one - because he'd really like to just hug his friend from behind like he always had and complain some more. Iwaizumi'd only resist for a second before retorting, a tension that's always been there despite all the casual contact they've had over the years, and their normalcy would be complete. He sighs instead.

 

"Are we there yet?"

 

"Yes, so shut your damn mouth and sit down."

 

Whereas there's a comfortable distance between patrons sitting next to each other, whether it be a seat between or the casual, unthoughtful leaning away, Oikawa rests his head against Iwaizumi's shoulder and blows out his mouth. The flight wouldn't be ready to leave for another half hour. That's so long, it feels, when you're sitting with nothing to do but think about how you're leaving, you really are leaving, there's no going back until you're finished with what you've started, going to a place you know nothing about and don't even speak the language for, hoping your practiced English gets you by--

 

But as he feels the weight of his friend's head leaning on his, it's bearable.

 

"Greece is supposed to be really pretty," he murmurs. Iwaizumi nods, flexing fists the only thing betraying his own anxiety about the trip. "It's a nice present from our families."

 

"Yeah, I'm just annoyed they stuck us together."

 

"You're so mean. I bet you're glad, 'cause you would've been scared and alone without me--"

 

  
"And your ten bags? Please, I could've done without that." The flexing stops and his hands rest on his thighs, relaxed. Oikawa smiles and closes his eyes, huffing slightly. ' _Jerk_ ', he thinks despite the languid thoughts that come afterward, the warm enveloping of affection he wants to blanket on the other without it becoming strange between them. Alcohol might make for a nice excuse, when they land. To celebrate.   


 

"I couldn't have done this without you," it's barely above a whisper and shouldn't be heard over the airport, but Iwaizumi's heart catches in his throat and the honesty of Oikawa's voice stills the noise around them. "Thanks, Iwa-chan."

 

"... Yeah, no problem," he finally manages to reply, and the half hour becomes too short for either of them.

 

At least one of them's happy about the seating. Iwaizumi's stuck between Oikawa, who has the window seat and is watching the people work below, and a foreign lady who can't seem to keep her hands from inching closer to him. He firmly takes a book from his bag and sets it on his lap, prepared for the half a day trip.

 

Between take off ("Iwa-chan, look! We really are flying!" "Of course we are, dumbass." "Everyone's getting so small...") and maybe an hour, two hours later, he hears a familiar sigh, feels the familiar weight on his shoulder, and a familiar annoyance rises as Oikawa rubs his cheek into him.

 

"I'm so bored, Iwa-chan, entertain me."

 

"Entertain yourself."

 

"Don't wanna." Oikawa shifts closer, reading passages alongside him, and seems to be content with just this. But Iwaizumi knows he's not - he's rarely ever satisfied with so little, and his concerns prove right when the other noses his cheek. "Pay attention to me."

 

"Go to sleep, Oikawa. It's gonna be a long flight."

 

Oikawa tugs him closer and away from their third seatmate, even if it means that the plastic is digging into his side annoyingly. "I'm not tired, I'm bored."

 

"So sleep it away, dumbass," he growls and lets himself be pulled, because it's not that bad all things considered. "If one of us sleeps now, then one of us'll be awake for when the plane lands. Don't you want to see that?"

 

They're both stubborn, but Oikawa gives in first with a nod, too excited at the thought of seeing them land. Iwaizumi has to deal with his arm being used as a pillow, one hand flipping the pages of the book he's barely reading until he feels the warm breath grazing his skin even out slowly.

 

Once the words start to blear together, he quietly closes the book and rests his head against the seat's backing.

 

The attendant wakes them both up to ask what they'd like to eat, giving them the run down of what they've got available in a semi-cheerful tone. Iwaizumi orders for both of them - Oikawa's in no state to be getting anything he'd want - and they eat in relative silence. Then it's back to reading and sky-watching for both of them.

 

"... It's so weird, being up here," Oikawa whispers against the glass. Iwaizumi turns to look at him. "There's billions of people living on this planet, and each and every one of them has their own lives. They're all down there and we're able to see it from up here."

 

"Yeah, and? What's your point?

 

He shrugs. It's just weird. The thought that there's so many people in the world, only a handful he'll ever know, only a quarter of who might ever see him on television, each with their own problems and praises... It makes him feel infinitesimal. Small, insignificant, the way the stars would when he was younger when he'd look up at them and wonder what was beyond the curtain of dark blue spotted white. Oikawa doesn't realize he's been talking outloud, however quietly, until he feels Iwaizumi's hand in his hair roughly tousling it.

 

"Alright, but how many of those people are gonna matter in your life? You're not gonna be in all of theirs either, so I don't see a point in thinking about it. Besides," Iwaizumi coughs, staring hard at his book, "you're not insignificant to the people around you. So quit being a dumbass."

 

Oikawa turns to stare at him, back of his head against the window, and he smiles. "Iwa-chan, I had no idea I was so important to you!"

 

"Shut up. You're not half as important as you think you are." They both know that's not true, even if one of them'd like it to be that way sometimes. Iwaizumi glances over and holds his gaze. "What."

 

"Nothing. Wake me up when get there, okay?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, go to sleep. I'll enjoy the silence while it lasts."

 

Oikawa leans back, eyes closed and snug as he can be against him, and Iwaizumi eases into the quiet. It is nice, but not just because the loudmouth's shut up. Mostly that. But also because his nerves are soothed and he exhales softly, wondering if they're going to enjoy this stay as much as their families think they will. Get some worldly experience, eat some new foods, find yourself and don't worry about college until next year.

 

It's going to be the only thing on his mind though, considering Oikawa hasn't even thought about which he's going to accept the invitation towards.

 

Iwaizumi wakes him up when they're starting to descend, because he knows Oikawa'd want to see it, and the beam he sports washes away any exhaustion he'd had from the flight. He peers past the other's head to see them land, too, marvelling at the sights beyond the airport and how fast they're coming in. The landing's smooth... or at least Iwaizumi assumes it is, this being his first flight too, and he's thankful for that.

 

"A month, huh?" Oikawa breathes out as they collect their things from the carasol. "A month with Iwa-chan. Well, if I die, at least they'll know who to blame."

 

Iwaizumi punches him in the shoulder on reflex and ignores the cries of pain, thankful he was finally able to do that. It was so refreshing. Like drinking water. "Get your stuff together and let's go, dumbass. The hotel we're staying at's pretty far."

 

"I hope it's nice. Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, let's decide if we want to live here or not! Greece is perfect for you and I. It's beautiful and old fashioned. Just like me and you, respectively," and he dodges the kick this time, laughing as he bumps into someone and apologizing profusely in English for the offense. Iwaizumi stifles his chuckle just a little, leaving the lighter things for Oikawa to carry, and stares at the exit of the airport.

 

"... A month, huh," he mutters as he starts along, and he feels Oikawa move past him with a skip.

 

"Yup. Relish it while you can, Iwa-chan, having me to yourself."

 

  
"Yeah, sure, I'll cherish every minute of peace while you're  _sleeping_ ."   



	6. not even a cuppa joe can cure a bad everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day seven of iwaoi week: it's only temporary, but against his own judgment oikawa's afraid that their friendship might end up being that, too

There's not that much different, at the core.

 

It's actually kind of interesting. How many things are habit and how many are innate traits. They're both without hesitation, but it's the reaction that really seals it. Oikawa's smile strains when Iwaizumi apologizes for hitting him - he's not sure why he did it, and to a stranger - and he excuses himself, bile rising in his throat as he rushes to get away, down the hall of the hospital and retches nothing into the toliet of the bathroom there, stomach empty from a lack of appetite of the morning's news.

 

It'd just be short-term, the doctor had assured the two families. He'll remember things as time goes on, so please treat him as you always would. Just be there for him.

 

Oikawa avoids the hospital and the house across the street once Iwaizumi's returned home, curtains closed and door shut tight. He eats only when asked by his mother, but declines invintation to the Iwaizumi household. Promises to go that weekend and doesn't. Looks at the number so familiar in his phone and tosses it across the room in a fit he hasn't had since he was fifteen.

 

It lands with a solid thud and Oikawa curls up tighter.

 

  
Unfortunately, Iwaizumi  _always_ knows. Even if he doesn't remember a damn thing, he still  _knows_ and that hurts Oikawa the most. He hears his mom say he's got a visitor - ' _It's Hajime-kun, won't you come downstairs?_ ' - and it feels like  _he's_ the one who just got out of the hospital, not the other way around, and his laughter escapes into sobs. There's a familiar weight thudding up the stairs and he clenches his fists tighter, hoping that the person won't knock and will just try the door, will yell at him for being a  _dumbass_ and to _get out already, don't be such a prick!_   


 

But there's a solid knock and an uncomfortable, hesitant and awkward voice on the other side.

 

"Oikawa?"

 

  
It's Iwaizumi, but it's not Iwa-chan. He buries his head into his knees and laughs softly again. It weighs him down in the worst ways, a pressure building in his chest as he tries to fight the rising tears and he sobs again, breathe hitching in vain of stopping it. The door unlocks - _Iwa-chan always did know how to do that_ , Oikawa thinks miserably - and there's a hand rubbing circles into his back without knowing the full extent of why.   


 

  
It must feel weird, being told you've been childhood friends with someone and not remembering a single thing about them. Oikawa lays with his cheek on his knees and stares, a hollow feeling in his chest, at Iwaizumi's concerned expression -  _be mad at me, please, hit me and tell me I'm being stupid, that I'm a dumbass and a piece of shit for acting this way_ .   


 

It's suffering for him.

 

Iwaizumi seems dubious at Oikawa's assurances that he was fine, just had a bad day (a bad week, a bad month, a bad year), and the air's stale in the room they used to spend off weekends in. Most of the time it was at Iwaizumi's house - he's always felt so at home there, surrounded by things that were close to Iwaizumi and practically exuded his personality - but it was okay here, too. Iwaizumi looks around the room, studies it, and Oikawa pretends he's just making sure it's all taken care of and tidy like it should be instead of seeing if he can recall a fragment of the past.

 

"I remember this," and Oikawa doesn't know how he didn't get a bad case of whiplash from jerking his head up so suddenly to see what Iwaizumi's looking at. He lowers it back down when he recognizes the framed achievement, listening for once. "You actually had a genuine smile when you got this."

 

"All of my smiles are honest and pure," he repeats from memory, and hears Iwaizumi laugh.

 

"Even just hearing that from you sounds wrong."

 

Back to wandering around the room a little more, like he's cramming for a test on Oikawa Tooru, someone he should know in and out yet only his body's reactions remember.

 

"... It's kind of weird, hearing that I was really close to someone."

 

  
_Mmm. Really. Who would've thought._  Oikawa doesn't want to hear this, pushes his hands against his ears. One, two, three, four,  _inhale_ , five, six,  _exhale_ .  The steady rhythm makes things a little better until he feels Iwaizumi sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder--   


 

  
and he recoils like he's been burned, " _Don't touch me_ !"   


 

  
Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa like  _he_ was the one who was burned, shock fading fast into anger and finally into something that strikes him right in the heart: hesitance. Neither of them were ever the type to do anything but the opposite - Oikawa, carefreely brushing aside things until he hit a wall and Iwaizumi, bashing right through it with his strength of convictions - and it hurt to see the moment's doubt. Oikawa knows he's tense, ready to run away (again), and he presses himself into the wall when Iwaizumi crawls over and sits a foot from him.   


 

  
"What the fuck, Oikawa. Were they lying to me when they said we were friends? That we were always close and playing together, inseparable? Because you're acting like such a  _dick_ , it's hard to believe that I could've been anything more than an acquaintance to you."   


 

  
"No, that's--" The lump in his throat's back; it seems to grow, blocking up his airway until he's coughing and gasping for breath. He's aware of someone's arms encircling him and he manages to take a deep breath, nose pressed into Iwaizumi's shoulder, and while he doesn't calm instantly there's the feeling of  _I'm here_  and  _You're there_  and a part of him realizes how  _stupid_ he's been about this, that even if Iwaizumi doesn't remember right now he will and this'll just be a laughable time in the future. Oikawa doesn't know how long they stay like that, a hand gently caressing his head and playing with his hair, but he just feels so  _tired_ he wants to fall asleep.   


 

"... Sorry that I don't remember," he hears from beside him quietly. He wraps his arms around Iwaizumi and laughs softly, breath hitching somewhere in the middle, and shakes his head.

 

  
"It's my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Iwa-chan, please don't be mad at me." There's the question of  _What for?_  hanging in the air, but he ignores it. "They say you'll remember everything eventually. I... I was just..."   


 

_Scared that we wouldn't be friends during that time. That you'd see how bad I was without childhood bias and wonder why you'd ever stuck around in the first place. That you'd come to your senses and remember and leave me._

 

"Like anyone expects you to react rationally when a friend goes through something like this. You dumbass." There's a pause and Iwaizumi rests his chin on Oikawa's head, fingers idly twirling his hair. "Dumbasskawa."

 

  
"I don't think I've ever been so happy to hear you call me that, Iwa-chan," Oikawa chokes out as he buries further into the shoulder, hands gripping the back of Iwaizumi's shirt tight. It wasn't like he's gone. Iwaizumi was still  _here_ .   


 

It'd just take some time for things to be right again.


	7. i like my coffee like i like my men: hot and bitter about their lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dive right into the only sex thing i've written. because i'm as shameless as oikawa is

"Nn... Iwa-chan..."

 

Soft, but persistent calls of his name. Arousal coils around him and squeezes, venom that rushes blood south and Iwaizumi finds himself disgustingly peering into Oikawa's room, gritting his teeth as Oikawa shudders out another moan, face pressed to the floor as his fingers work their way inside his ass. There's two, three digits maybe, and it's fucking summer time as far as Iwaizumi's body temperature goes, pumping himself in time with Oikawa's hand.

 

  
"It's not enough," he hears the other huff and stifles a chuckle to himself at the ridiculous normalcy of that. Of  _course_ it's  _not enough_  for Oikawa - when is anything? But everything freezes when he sees Oikawa's head turn towards the door, flushed and panting heavily as he tries to add a fourth to his ass, and they stare at each other for a minute before the latter makes some kind of choked noise in his throat. He starts to laugh and gasps as he manages the fourth, shaking.  


 

Iwaizumi isn't sure which is the worst part - the fact that Oikawa's still going and fucking himself, or that he's getting off to it and they both know this is far beyond their normal relationship.

 

  
"Wanna join? There's room," Oikawa purrs, eyes slits. A strangled noise is his reply, something that should be 'no' or 'okay' or even 'Oikawa, why', but the other gets it. Maybe. Breathlessly, "Or you can just watch, I don't mind. Just come in here. I don't want -- mmmm  _fuck_ ."  


 

He finishes his thought a moment later, the lustful smirk on his face the epicenter of the tremors racking Iwaizumi's body. "Want you to make a mess."

 

  
Iwaizumi hates that he stumbles in and shuts the door  _only_ as an after thought, hates that he goes towards Oikawa with the intent to touch him, hates the fact that Oikawa's bubbling laughter hitches when he  _does_ touch the hot skin and pushes back the shirt, laying kiss after kiss across his back, but loves the way that Oikawa just  _gives in_  and lets him, loves the curses and too-loud noises that grind into the floor, the panted, shaking groans of his name (nickname, first name, it doesn't matter (but the latter feels a little intimate, so he doesn't reply with  _Tooru_ just grunts and has a moment of wondering why Oikawa was doing this in the first place, why  _his_ name, why were they even in this mess)).  


 

"Please," it's a soft plea that Iwaizumi knows he's prepared to answer, and Oikawa clears his throat to try again, "fuck me, Iwa-chan. I need you."

 

  
"When don't you?" He retorts, but looks for lube and finds it when Oikawa lifts himself up slightly, groaning. It's warm because of that, but it barely registers as he takes Oikawa's fingers out and replaces them with his own, biting his lip against a threatening moan at the sudden heat and  _pull_ .  


 

  
"I already prepped myself and everything, Iwa-chan, have--," it dies off into a muddle of prayers when Iwaizumi's other hand cups his balls and massages them roughly, Oikawa's palm pounding into the floor. Iwaizumi can almost hear the protest in each one -  _Not fair, not fair, stop that, get over with it already, you're a jerk!_  - and releases him.  


 

"Your voice turns me off, Oikawa, so shut up for once." It doesn't and they both (now) know this. But he nods, glancing back at Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye knowingly. Iwaizumi's a little rougher the next thrust in and Oikawa curses, shuddering.

 

  
When all's said and done, Iwaizumi still has to admit to himself that Oikawa is  _hot as hell_  and  _maybe_ he's been feeling a little restrictive to himself lately, trying to turn his focus on anything but his best friend, and that he's probably not gonna get off any other way than remembering the moment he teases into Oikawa's hole and feeling the heat against his fingers. Oikawa pushes back into him needily and his body hitches at the brush, hissing, pushing right back and  


 

  
it's not that his mind goes blank, or anything, but there's a sense of  _Oh, okay, this is great_ , as he gets used to the feeling (and thought) of being inside Oikawa. The other's taking it just as well, adjusting his position on the floor so he's laying on his arms after a stopped moment, and Iwaizumi swallows.  


 

"Okay," Oikawa breathes, "I'm okay. Go ahead."

 

  
But it's not Oikawa without whining protests that  _it_ hurts _, Iwa-chan, you're too rough_ , and every time he opens his mouth Iwaizumi stops (as much as it hurts him too, he's going to make a point with reinforcement). "Are you seriously in pain, or are you just complaining?"  


 

  
"Well, it  _does_ hurt, you know, no matter what I've done. Iwa-chan's just too rough."  


 

"You're so fucking annoying."

 

  
"Don't mind me, Iwa-chan, I promise to tell you if it really gets to be too much," he drawls and grinds his hips back, grinning at the way Iwaizumi's fingers tighten on his hips. It feels so  _good_ . He wants more,  _more_ , but this is okay for right now. "Deal with me, okay?"  


 

"I always have to," growling, "so don't even fucking start."

 

But he does as he's asked (as always) and Oikawa's voice is haggard, fingers gripping his arms tightly and flushed slick with sweat. Iwaizumi knows he's no better, not when Oikawa looks back and grins at him, not when that grin's replaced with a throaty moan of his name and his eyes are squeezed shut, and it's not long until he comes. Oikawa shudders, apparently not quite as done, but his laugh's hoarse.

 

"Are you gonna leave me like this, Iwa-chan?"

 

"Half a mind to," but he's still riding out his orgasm as he reaches round and takes Oikawa's cock in his hand, figuring it's like masturbating someone else. Oikawa gives him mumbles of thanks and approval, mostly in the form of commands and prayers to God, and Iwaizumi follows every step until Oikawa spills down his hand and drips onto the floor, somewhat dizzy.

 

It's a quiet time, cleaning up, fixing up, pretending like it didn't happen, but the first moment he gets the chance to Oikawa pushes Iwaizumi onto his bed and grins, "Round two?"

 

  
"Not a chance, idiot," with a solid smack too. Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him and ducks away from the headbutt (kiss?) with a bit of laughter, clearing his throat and laying against him. It's odd. But nice. Iwaizumi's hands rest on Oikawa's back, legs splayed out on either side, and he breathes out. Tries to get comfy with the heavy body on him, the heavier thoughts of  _you fucked your best friend and you both clearly enjoyed it, what now_  clouding his mind, and he doesn't notice until it happens that Oikawa's kissing him softly, tugging at his lip to get his attention. Like the first part wouldn't.  


 

"You're gonna get wrinkly and gross from thinking so hard," he murmurs and lays his head against Iwaizumi's shoulder, "so just stop and sleep, 'kay? That's what you usually do after sex - the regrets come later."

 

  
Iwaizumi glares at Oikawa, fingers curling into his back, and turns his head away. The words don't settle well with him at all. But what other choice did he have? It's not-- It's not  _normal_ to do this with your best friend, much less a guy, but considering  _Oikawa_ was the one getting off to him first makes it a tiny bit better.  


 

"Yeah. Sure."


	8. in the middle of the night's fine too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first prompt for iwaoi halloween, fhq! it's set only a few years before oikawa's ascent to the throne and his inevitable downfall

The night sky is twinkly, small gems shining in the dark expanse in the sky that matches the one just below in the form of the ocean, and the only thing Oikawa can think is I want to conquer that, too.

"Iwa-chan," he sings, "do you think I deserve the world?"

The knight-in-training looks at him - he can tell, the dark eyes boring into him just as deep and _his_ as the ocean, the land, the sky - and the teen seems to choose his words carefully.

"You already have it, don't you?"

Oikawa's tail curls at the end, pleased, and he falls onto his back with a happy oof.

"Yup. It's all _mine_ \-- Or, it will be, once mom and dad leave." He rolls onto his stomach to let his tail wave about as he crawls towards Iwaizumi, his trusted friend, his playmate since childhood, the one who he could count on to have his back always. "About a year or so now."

Crickets chirp between them, Iwaizumi watching Oikawa, Oikawa watching the fireflies glow their bright greens and purples. Supposedly dragons cursed to be small, pathetic little bugs for their greed and insolence. Haha. Little losers. He captures one in his bare hands, peeking in at the green light filling the dark space, and laughs.

"Look, Iwa-chan, I captured one."

"So what? I had a jar of them, remember?"

"Don't be jealous~. You're too barbaric now from sword training to capture a delicate little thing like this." Oikawa hums and rolls through the grass over to Iwaizumi, landing against his leg with a grin as he holds it up to show through his fingers.

Iwaizumi leans close to peer in, jumping back when Oikawa suddenly opens his hands and tosses the bug at him with a cackle. The glowfly zips up lazily and joins the stars in the sky, oblivious to the scuffle down below as Iwaizumi gives the prince a stern noogie as punishment. Oikawa's still laughing through it, though pained, and he finally settles down after the fist turns into a palm, nails scraping gently at his scalp.

"How can you be expected to protect me if you get startled by a little prank, huh?" He teases, wincing as the nails dig into his head. They lighten a bit and Iwaizumi snorts.

"You threw your hands out right into my face. What else was I supposed to do? Get hit? My reflexes are better than that."

Oikawa leans into the scratching, squeezing his eyes shut and his tail wriggling like a caught wyrm. No one does this for him. Not his servants, not his mom, not his dad... Just Iwaizumi. To be fair, the first isn't allowed to touch him and the last two are always busy with this or that. Iwaizumi's always been a special case. And a weakness. But he doesn't even admit that to himself, too self-confident that even if something were to happen to his best friend (which it wouldn't) he'd be fine.

Others consider his affection for this human in bad taste, from neglectful parenting.

But Iwaizumi tastes so good he can't stop himself from greedily pushing him down and grinning at the other's scowl, tail curling around the other's leg as he re-explores conquered land, the wet kisses returned with a moment's reluctance. Iwaizumi's arms encircle his waist and they trade blows until they're flushed breathless.

"Iwa-chan," he whispers just above the cricket's song, "do you swear to protect this land of mine from all darkness?"

It seems there's a moment's hesitance, but Iwaizumi's probably just catching his breath. His answer's a plain nod and a look of _duh, moron_. "That's what I'm training for."

Though neither of them would guess that Oikawa could be included in that.


	9. vampires are supernatural hipsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lot of myths about vampires aren't true
> 
> but the part about them not liking garlic is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because who can resist vampire aus

Not for the first time does Oikawa regret giving Iwaizumi his full name (which gives him a certain control over the vampire), or moving in with him (because vampires have to ask permission to enter private spaces), and even feeling a longing attachment to the human had been a mistake (because love to vampires goes beyond dying for their chosen other; they would _kill_ if it meant protecting the area around the love, because to sever that connection was near fatal for both). But it was with these three mistakes that eventually accumulated into an unshakable bond, broken only by the eventual passage of time which ticked noisily in Oikawa's head, pounding where his heart could not, and the nights curled against his human were some of his fondest and most peaceful, feeling the rise and fall of the chest pressed against his cheek as he laid on Iwaizumi. He can practically hear the blood running beneath the tan skin, rivers pouring a single lake and rushing out with every slow breath. Oikawa is keenly aware of Iwaizumi's well-being, no matter if he's healthy or on the beginnings of illness, but moreso he can tell when Iwaizumi'll start to decay as all mortals do. When he'd propose to turn him.

Loving a human is as painful as he'd been warned by Sugawara, another vampire who owned the grounds a few blocks to the north.

Oikawa shifts, lifting his head to admire the other, and sighs. He brushes his thumb lightly against Iwaizumi's cheek, the intimacy shown abhorred by the rest of his kind. Marriage and even dating was largely political, determining the sizes of feeding grounds and power within the councils, but _love_ \- swearing yourself to someone, promising to kill or be killed by their hand... Well, it wasn't common.

The vampire himself had been a little afraid at first, wary of his own affections buried within, but he found that while he could live without Iwaizumi (blood isn't hard to come by when your allure is through the roof) he didn't _want_ to and, well, so it came to this. Living together for a number of years and ending the day with the smallest of regrets that he didn't truly need or want to sleep. Iwaizumi knows it too, but he still brushes the "sleeping" vampire's bangs away and presses his lips to his forehead, heat lingering on the skin there. It leaves Oikawa beaming long after the other leaves for college.

However, for all the good and bad times, there were just some days that were the worst.

"So," Oikawa tries, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi's shoulders as he leans chest-to-head and props his chin up. "What's for dinner?"

"Italian."

"Iwa-chan! Please! I didn't mean to mess up your paper, how was _I_ supposed to know it wasn't your rough draft or something?! Let's talk it out and get something less overpowering!"

Italian food, while not deadly to vampires, was just too rich for his own tastes. He preferred something a little more rustic. Like hearty soups. Garlic was the _worst_ offender in terms of overpowering tastes, and cilantro just tasted soapy to him, _bleh_. Iwaizumi glances up at him, expression unreadable, and goes back looking at the site's menu. It really _had_ been an accident, and the sketch that'd come out of it had been so nice he'd proudly shown the model his work. And was practically put in his grave for it. Apparently, it was due early the next day, and there wasn't a printer in the entire apartment. Oikawa blows out his mouth, rubbing his cheek against the short hair of his loved one.

"Iwa-chan, please? I don't feel well today--"

"So go to one of your clubs. It's not like you eat human food anyway"

Iwaizumi's really mad, huh. While he doesn't eat the food like that anyway... It's not like he can't sit across from Iwaizumi and just enjoy his company. Eating together wasn't something they could do (unless it included feeding off Iwaizumi himself, though that was something romantic and private between the two of them) but Oikawa loves to spend time with his human any way possible.

And he _knows_ that.

Oikawa's chest aches deeply, a dull throb that's probably reminiscent of heart break, and he draws away after slipping something out of Iwaizumi's pocket. The body heat lingers on him for only a short time. "Alright, I will. Enjoy your stupid over seasoned food."

"Will do."

He bares his teeth at the response and pivots, heading out the door and into the darkening evening.

And so Iwaizumi is left with a chilly apartment and a colder shoulder. He rubs at it, wondering if he was too harsh and, remembering _just_ how important this paper was, decides it was fine a moment later. Oikawa can get over it. He's an adult. Vampire. Person.

... What counted as an "adult" in vampire society, anyway. When they had their first taste of blood? He frowns, shaking his head, and goes to pick up some of the Italian he'd been looking at, locking up as usual. If Oikawa wanted to get back in at any point of his absence he apparently knew how to pick locks, so there wasn't a hint of guilt in his mind. Iwaizumi exhales slowly and wishes he'd taken a scarf about halfway down the street, cheeks hurting at the cold, and tugs his hat further over his sensitive ears. Damn winter.

This season was one of Oikawa's favorites for a number of obvious reasons. He was insanely popular with the girls in Iwaizumi's classes, not to mention on the street and in his own part-time workplace, so he had his choice of dates. It was easy to feed. The lights were pretty. And, of course, _gifts_. But for all the years Iwaizumi and he had been together, the vampire had always insisted on staying inside on Christmas and snuggling up with him under a blanket to watch specials on television. It was odd for a while... But considering their current arrangements, it wasn't surprising anymore. Oikawa was _affectionate_. That meant hot chocolate with marshmallows, cuddling with stupid sweaters, the lights dimmed and the company of each other as they stayed warm inside.

In other words: Really nice.

He breathes on his hands as he spots a fast food place ahead and decides that Italian would linger longer than their spat, ducking inside to order. Maybe he'll buy a cake for Christmas too. That'd be nice to have. It's too late too buy one right this second though, so the morning.

... The more he thinks about it, the more guilt starts to rise. Oikawa really _hadn't_ meant to mess with his paper like that. The vampire had a fondness for drawing - an artist in a life long past, maybe? - and Iwaizumi was said (embarrassing enough) to be his favorite model. He's not mad anymore, but it's still not okay, and he blows out like a dragon breathing fire as he looks down at the bag in hand. Whatever. If he wakes up early enough, then he can just print it back out at college and be done with it. Then they could move on like usual.

Also, it's just really hard to stay mad at someone who could easily kill him but peeks out of rooms like _he's_ the scary vampire. Iwaizumi matches Oikawa's wary gaze and holds up the fast food bag, smirking at the flinch and the dawning realization that it's not the overwhelming cuisine he'd been expecting.

"Fast food's really unhealthy, Iwa-chan. Can I have a fry?"

"You don't even eat human food and you want one."

Oikawa's eyes widen hopefully as Iwaizumi takes a fry, and he scowls when it's eaten in front of him. "Nope. This is mine. A feel good to help get over the fact you _ruined my damn paper_."

"Tut tut. Still not over that?" The vampire slides away from the table and Iwaizumi watches curiously, laying aside a small handful of fries for Oikawa. He'd never stop complaining otherwise. Oikawa returns with Iwaizumi's essay folder and opens it up, showing off what is _definitely_ the essay that'd been drawn on. Except new. He hands over the folder and clasps his hands behind his back, eyeing the fries left out for him. "... I looked around for a library and remembered that I had a... _friend_ who did some late night work in one and asked if I could print it out."

At least it wasn't anything illegal. Probably. Though that hesitance might say otherwise to some, it was probably a fellow bloodsucker that he was on stable terms with. Iwaizumi lets out his held breath and makes sure all the pages are in order, glancing at his USB stick as Oikawa slides it across the table. He lets the other metaphorically sweat it out a minute longer before he pushes the napkin piled with fries over and bites back a laugh at the overjoyed look on Oikawa's face.

"I still don't see why you eat them if it doesn't really taste like anything to you."

"Mm, I dunno, people look so happy eating them even though they know it'll turn them fat, so maybe it's like that?"

"Yeah, no. There's no way you can compare the two." Oikawa shrugs and eats another, beaming. Whatever. It's just another quirk to add to his ever-growing list of 'odd vampire or maybe just him' things.


	10. it's a wake up call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weddings used to be one of oikawa's favorite events. particularly western styled ones, which've become more popular for their energy and fanfare, but he thinks a traditional one would've been fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was supposed to be for one of the days for iwaoi week (post-grad) but i never finished it til now. go figure, right?

_Don't object. Don't say a word. Don't do anything but smile and be happy for your best friend and that beautiful wife he has_ , Oikawa chants in his head like it's a prayer to tolerate something that churns his stomach so bad he'd like to puke. _It isn't like you're losing anything. He's still your best friend._

But he hates the way that Iwaizumi looks at his new wife. How they sit close and talk quietly to each other over dinner at the head of the table. Their hands are beneath the table, probably interlocked the way that he and Iwaziumi's were as children, carefree and happy for even a day, and the thought makes the food in front of him look unappetizing. It's perfectly fine, tasty food. Beautifully made.

A little too rich for Iwaizumi's tastes. It must've been his wife's wish.

Oikawa forces himself to eat and glances at his glass half-empty of wine, knowing that as the best man he's gotta make a toast and say a few words. Wishing he'd brought notecards to read off of instead of staying up too late getting drunk and making the last mistakes he ever would have the right to when it was just him and Iwaizumi and a dark bottle between them, in the end.

So he stands and smiles the way he always would in front of a crowd, draws their eyes and their silence. The attention is something he'd usually bask in. But it just sets itself on his shoulders and pushes him down until he's sinking deep below the reception's flooring, down to the very lava the planet held in its heart, and he wishes he wasn't too old to explode like he used to. Being kicked out would be a blessing... but the aftermath, unlike a volcano's eruption, wouldn't be worth it.

"They met in their college years. Iwa-chan was always too shy to tell his feelings, of course, but it seems she knew them anyway." The jab brings some laughter from their peers, and Oikawa glances at Iwaizumi's annoyed face with a grin. "I'd like to speak mostly on behalf of the groom, as I've been his best man since childhood, and _boy_ do I have so many things to say!"

"Oikawa," the aforementioned man growls, but he's waved off easily with Oikawa's bright laughter. There'd be a lot to say about Iwaizumi... but a few words which would never leave his lips again, locked away with a key and firmly planted there.

"Iwaizumi Hajime. Someone I have always trusted, always relied on, throughout our lives together. Even his name inspires something great, doesn't it? I've always loved that name," an ache in his chest, "mostly because I felt that by being his friend, I could achieve anything I'd always wanted. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm _entirely_ capable by myself--"

A snort.

"-- But it's nice to know that someone has your back. Especially if that someone is as steadfast, honest, and thick-skulled as our handsome groom here." Oikawa sips from his glass, eyeing Iwaizumi over the rim as he pauses. Embarrassed, irritated. Probably regretting putting Oikawa further down the line than first intended. The glass never leaves his hand, and he even refills it. A little wine is good for your body. He inhales deep, shaking slightly as his throat tightens. _Don't cry. Not allowed. You had your chance and you didn't take it. You're not even allowed to say it blind sided you;_ you _set them up in the first place._ "I don't think I could've ever made it as far as I did if I hadn't had him by my side. Iwa-chan's been an important part of my life, and having to share him with someone else now... I was never fond of sharing, but I'll make an exception for someone who loves him so much."

And that's where his voice breaks just slightly. Iwaizumi can tell, and Oikawa knows he can tell. It's just part of their pact. He clears his throat and raises his glass.

"I wish you both the greatest happiness life can offer to you. And please, take care of Iwa-chan for me. He's like a broken record sometimes."

Oikawa sits with the applause and laughter, blending back into the scene with practice ease. It's only once there's been a few more gone that he excuses himself quietly and goes to sit alone where it'll be filled with music and dancing soon, a room all its own. He just needs a bit. A minute, half an hour, to really pound it into his head that this isn't some dream.

There's footsteps and he doesn't even have to look up to know its Iwaizumi, whose steps are as clear to him even with the odd click of dress shoes.

"Care for a dance?" He hears himself ask before Iwaizumi can say a word, and he gets a knuckle grinding into his head for it. It lightens up before Oikawa can whine and rests for only a moment before dropping away.

"Best man's supposed to dance with the bride, not the groom."

Oikawa stands and wipes his face, hoping he's just coming off as sentimental in his tears rather than heartbroken and sorrowfully sober. "I'll get to her, Iwa-chan, after you do. I was only joking anyway. Who'd want to dance with bruised feet?"

"More than just your feet'll be bruised if you don't shut up." A kick to solidify that claim, and though it has no real power behind it Oikawa still yelps to go along. "You're a crybaby."

"I am not. You're just a bully, even now."

Standing's too odd if they're not doing anything and it ends up with them sitting, Oikawa's tucked naturally into Iwaizumi's shoulder as he leans against him. The murmur of voices from the other room reminds Oikawa they're not alone and he sighs.

"I'll miss having you around to cook for me."

"You'll survive," Iwaizumi replies, rubbing Oikawa's arm slowly. It's supposed to be comforting. He knows it is. But it just strains his heart more and his cheeks heat up, irritated at himself.

"I know," he chokes out, a deep shuddering sigh as he tries to recompose himself because _will_ he survive, would he _really_ , he knows he has to anyway because that's just how it _works_ , that's how it _is_ now, "but I still want you."

_What a pitiful admittance_ , he thinks, _and I'm not even tipsy_.

"Too bad," Iwaizumi replies after a moment, voice tight. "I can't do anything about that now and neither can you, so, just..."

Oikawa nuzzles into his neck with a subdued hum, wrapping his arm around his friend with a sigh as heavy as his heart. "I know, Iwa-chan. I'll be a good boy and move on eventually. But it's hard to forget your first love."

"I know that more than anyone, dumbasskawa," Iwaizumi mutters back, no heat or anger in it, and Oikawa cherishes the hand carding through his hair. They'll still be close. They still love each other - even if it's put down to platonic, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just not what he wants but it's what he has to settle for - and nothing'll change that.

It just hurts to see Iwaizumi being so gentle with his new wife, and Oikawa breathes regrets into his next sip of wine.


	11. fireworks aren't the only things going off and dazzling people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oikawa goes home from the summer festival with seven fish, two stuffed animals, a number of useless knick knacks and keychains, a stuffed stomach, and a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> done for the technical day 2 (traditional clothing) of the [30 day iwaoi drawning/writing challenge](http://mysecretfanmoments.tumblr.com/post/104262940472/30-day-iwaoi-drawing-and-or-writing-challenge), but i'm a little out of order. and doing it entirely with sexswapped oikawa because why not

Oikawa spins, twirls, dances in the kimono, the festival's light playing off its red-golden sheen like the autumn leaves it resembles, and though she's only fourteen she catches the gaze of guys around them - unbekownst to herself, of course, her brown eyes shining brightly towards Iwaizumi. Who honestly can't speak, taking a quiet breath when he remembers to and knows she's waiting for a reply to the unspoken question.

"Well?" She prompts, lifting her arms and waving them slightly. The long sleeves seem to gleam, even as they bunch up towards her elbows when she clasps her hands to her chest, grin widening to the point where squints her eyes. The nice smile. The one that made Iwaizumi think that maybe he should admit to himself that he might-- "How do I look? Mama said that it's passed down from generation to generation, and she's really really _really_ thankful that I was born a girl, even if it's still big for me. Though I don't think I would've mind wearing this as a guy either. What do you think, Iwa-chan? Am I pretty?"

More than pretty. At fifteen - her birthday's only a few weeks away now - Iwaizumi doesn't think he'd ever have anything smart to say about it, because calling her beautiful or-- breathtaking, or whatever, would inflate her ego, and though Oikawa looks like a fine young lady she's really a brat in disguise, wavy hair put up for an evening where it's usually tangled and matted down with sweat from play. Sure, recently she'd been more into charming everyone around her, but she was still Oikawa.

And she's still waiting for a response, her grin dipping down as she pokes his cheeks. "Iwa-chaaan. I'm so beautiful, you've been struck speechless, haven't you?"

"-- I'm just wondering how long it took for them to turn you into a girl," he finally replies, face burning as he grabs her wrist and starts to walk. "... You look nice."

"Nice, huh. Iwa-chan's vocabulary is lacking as usual."

But Oikawa still follows close, slipping her hand into his and he wonders if her skin tingles too, or if she noticed his hand tensing before it relaxed into her tight grip. She doesn't say anything, but that doesn't mean he's safe.

They walk around a little, but his eyes keep being drawn from crowd in front of them to the girl beside him, admiring the way the warm colored obi is tight on her frame, the autumnal colors of the kimono reflecting lightly onto her pale skin and giving her almost a golden glow. He knows her hair's probably bugging her, being up like that, from the way her free hand messes with the pin keeping it in place, and he swats it away. She frowns at him, but leans against him as they walk and starts at a shooting range, dragging him over with a wide grin.

And this is the first of many games. Some of which Iwaizumi loses, most of which he wins, and all the prizes go to Oikawa - though he'd never admit it outright. She complains about all the useless junk he's getting and he shoves it off on her instead. That way, they're both happy. Until they get to the fishing game and Oikawa declares that she can catch more than he can.

"More like break the most nets," he teases and laughs when she tries to shove him over, pushing back against her shoulder.

The goldfish are bulged eyed and ugly in his opinion, but Oikawa's always loved them. There was a time where her room was nothing but aquariums filled with the little things, each of them having a name and a story that ended either in the ground, in her cat's stomach, or in the toliet - secretly flushed in a hope that Oikawa wouldn't notice, though she always did and cried into his chest. It was such a silly thing to cry over. But Oikawa is a silly girl, Iwaizumi knows, so he watches her from the corner of his eye and wonder how many fish lives she'll endanger this year. Or have him endanger, as is the case, because while she has the speed and focus she's got inherently bad luck and too strong of a flick in her wrist from playing baseball.

Iwaizumi wonders if she'll stick with it, or if she'll move back to their childhood play of volleyball. He kind of hopes the latter. It'd be fun to play with her again sometime, when there's not balls whizzing past him and her obnoxiously loud, cheerful laughter at the mound in front of him.

Children - because he and Oikawa aren't kids anymore, at least it doesn't feel like it when she's dressed so nicely and he's her companion - scream laughter as they rush past, ducking beneath the feet of those taller and out of habit Iwaizumi keeps her steady with a hand, remember a year when she'd fallen in and cried about her kimono being ruined for half an hour until their parents found them, the pretty thing soaked and ruined and laying out in the grass with Iwaizumi and her, Oikawa tucked into his side shivering as he did his best to keep the chill off her with his yukata. On the brightside, there'd been a lot of fish as compensation, which had probably sprung her aquarium interest.

At the hand across her shoulder, Oikawa turns and smiles her thanks, and Iwaizumi loses a fish because that might've been the best prize he'd gotten all evening. Not that he'd ever, _ever_ admit it.

It ends five to two, but Oikawa's the one carrying seven fish around, careful not to jostle them too much as they slip through the bustling, loud, stifling crowd to the side where there's only a handful, also taking a break. She slips off her sandals and tosses them a little ways away, laying back in the summer dewed grass with a content sigh. The festival lights play off her kimono even now, the shadows of people passing darkening it and then it's burning all the brighter in the next second. Iwaizumi takes his place beside her but doesn't lay, just stares down at her with a frown.

"Isn't your mom gonna get mad that you're getting it all wet?"

"It's mine from now on. And this dew won't ruin it," she grins and lifts an oversized sleeve to show him the back, and all he can realize is that Oikawa is going to be _very_ dangerous in their future. "There's no need to worry, Iwa-chan."

He grunts, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands to stare at the sky.

"Hey, are you still into stars and junk?"

"Kind of. I wish I could be an astronaut sometimes, so I can see what the world looks like from all the way up there, but... I don't think they'd take me in. I'm horrible at math." And she's a girl, but that's never, not _once_ , stopped Oikawa from doing whatever she wants. Iwaizumi glances aside at her, her expression one of deep thought when she lifts her hand to trace the stars silently and the kimono sleeve falls back a little.

... At least tonight he'll admit to himself that his childhood friend, his best friend - the snotty girl who used to dress up frogs and bite boys, who joined up with his gang and fell right into their rhythm, who still cried with every bruise, cut, scrape she got of her own fault, who had always tugged on the back of his shirt for him to slow down a little and ended up on his back instead - is a young woman, and one he might, just maybe, like a lot more than he should, face flushing and heart hammering as he quickly turns his face back to the sky and try to keep his breathing even. Oikawa doesn't notice, he thinks, but he still peeks a look back over to make sure she's still connecting the stars, lips forming silent words he knows are the names of the constellations they can see.

"You could be one," he finally replies, and keeps his gaze steady when she turns to look at him. "I don't see why being bad at math or anything's ever stopped you before."

"But if I'm all the way up there, Iwa-chan, then you and I won't be together anymore. I'd much rather stay here with you."

They're innocent words, honesty edged with a desire not to be left alone, but they still leave Iwaizumi with the tips of his ears burning and a tightened chest, tearing up the grass idly. Oikawa sits up and hugs her knees, laying her cheek on them.

"Besides, you wouldn't have any girls to talk to you if I wasn't around to do charity work."

Yeah. That's what he thought, and he enjoys her shriek when he pushes her over. She sits up with complaints about her hair getting messed up, _it's got grass and stuff in it, you jerk,_ but quiets down when he scoots behind her to pick everything out, gently combing through the chestnut locks to loosen them out of their place and dropping the pins into her lap. Iwaizumi's not even bothering to put it back up either. Too much work for his less than elegant fingers.

"I look better with it down anyway," Oikawa mumbles as she twirls some around her finger, carefully layering the hair to make it look nice. She really does. Not to say she doesn't look great with it up, but Iwaizumi has a certain fondness for the hair that curls away from her shoulders, wavy from the top of her head to the middle of her back where it lays. It's a consistent length these years. He grunt and lets her leans against his chest, hands stilled until her head settles against his shoulder, her face so close he could probably kiss her if he wanted to.

And he really, really wants to.

But Iwaizumi leans back against his hands instead, resting his cheek to the side of her head, and it's kind of a nice atmosphere with the crowd a babble behind them, the cicadas fast sleep and the crickets come out to play. Oikawa whistles a familiar tune, one that brings him back to their childhood, and he half-sings the song that goes with it as it winds down.

"Some day when I've done what I've set out to do, I'll return home one of these days, where the mountains are green, my old country home, where the waters are clear, my old country home."

There's a pause and she looks up at him, and he down at her, and summer air fills their lungs as they laugh.

"-- Why that song, huh?" Iwaizumi asks once it's died down, when it's just them and the crickets and the brook of people behind them. "We don't even really live in the country. Not like the song thinks we do."

"It was still pretty popular here, wasn't it? And I just felt like whistling it." She seems older than fourteen for a moment, the meaning of the song lost in their early years and returning with the humid night air. Just until she pipes up again. "Iwa-chan shouldn't sing. His voice is too gravelly."

He'd shove her off, but the weight's actually pretty nice. So he pinches her side instead, illicting a yelp, and sighs.

"No matter where you go," he starts out, uncertainty creeping up his spine when she turns back to look at him, "I'll be with you. Even if you go to the stars. So don't think you shouldn't just because of something stupid like that."

No matter what they choose, it's always been a promise they'd go together. Pinkys hooked beneath the a flowering wisteria tree in the schoolyard when they were nine and ten, the fragrant scent engulfing their senses and the long vines blocking the world out, laughter muffled by the lavender flowers. Oikawa's eyes had been red and puffy, sniffles quieted by the vow between them, and Iwaizumi hadn't been sure of what to do next other than to lift the wisteria's curtain and head out, her hand clasped firmly in his.

"I'd rather become a star, I think. That sounds a lot more fun than to watch something unttainable." Oikawa stretches back and smiles, looking forward, not realizing how sound her words would be in their future. "Do you think we've got time for one more round of games before the fireworks go off?"

Iwaizumi shrugs. "Do you want to play it safe or take a risk?"

"Play it safe. I'd hate to miss them from such a good spot." Though she leaves him to collect her sandals and even if it's summer, the warmth from his front is gone and damn him he misses it, even if it's resting against his side now. His arm moves over to support her more and she leans without a second thought, smoothing down the kimono with a hand as they wait for the fireworks to begin.

It's a burst of colors, of _oohs_ and _ahhs_ , but the only thing he can think about is the girl beside him, how the sight of her beaming upwards dazzles him and makes him see constellations, the showers of light fading against her bright clothes and he rubs the sleeve between his fingers while she's distracted. It's smooth and soft, like the lips brushing against his, though when he registers the kiss Oikawa's already looking back up with red on her cheeks. Iwaizumi can feel his own face flushing and he focuses on the fireworks, heart thudding loudly with each boom, the air charged with more than the crackling of the explosions.

Neither of them say a word about it, but it's the first thing Iwaizumi thinks about when he sees the kimono laid out for Tanabata years later, when she's got a date to go with and he's not it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song's a rather popular folk song that's taught in primary schools around japan called [furusato](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Furusato_\(children%27s_song\)) or, translated, "hometown". it tells the tale of a hard working country man who's homesick, though he has to finish what he's started so far from the mountains and rivers of his home.
> 
> the [wisteria](http://www.whats-your-sign.com/wisteria-meaning.html) has a lot of different meanings, and it's always been one of my favorite blossoming trees, so how could i resist


	12. oikawa's never a pretty crier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's not the first time she's cried over love - like a scrapped knee, bleeding easy and then healing with a scab - but it's the first time the object of her affection's a girl and, more troublesome, her best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "kazu" shares the same kanji that "hajime" does. it's pretty neat

Touko can remember the first time she met Iwaizumi Kazu, a boyish girl who didn't mind getting a few bruises, who only thought she was a little weird for wanting to catch frogs (and a _lot_ weirder for dressing them in clothes to play with), who agreed guys were stupid and gross and seriously needed to get over themselves if they thought a pair of girls couldn't kick their butts playing football. They both didn't like skirts, both enjoyed scaring the other kids, and didn't live insanely far from one another. They were born a month apart, Touko had an older sibling while Iwaizumi was an only child, Iwaizumi had a dog while Touko wasn't allowed anything bigger than her arm (which prompted a pretty hilarious debate about a snake she'd taken home, head pressed firmly in her hand as its small body wrapped around her wrist), but they both loved playing outdoors, jumping in puddles, rolling in the snow and chasing other kids off 'their' section of the playground, which stretched from the edge of the sandbox which was their base to the left two swings on the set.

It's just that they grew up different. Both continued in sports, but Iwaizumi accepted her role as 'one of the guys' a lot easier than Touko, who took to heart her mother's wistful words for a feminine daughter and became aware of the affect her natural beauty had on others.

Boys are stupider than previously thought.

There is nothing that interests Touko least than their apparent prowess in bed, how much they've dated or what sort of skill they have in kissing. What she's interested in is how far they'll go to please her, how much money they'll spend on her, what sort of dates she'll get out of it. It's no big deal to her to use her hands or mouth when they want something a little more physical, to show off her curving body and toned muscles, tutting slyly and acting shy when they try to take off her underwear, drawing into their blankets with breathy laughs and a look too ahead of her generation. Iwaizumi always rolls her eyes when they're practicing and trading stories of the day, but laughs with her anyway. Guys are really, really stupid.

Girls are stupid too.

It's around her fifteenth birthday, fresh into high school, that Touko realizes something watching her best friend. Iwaizumi is beautiful. In that sort of way that a she-wolf is, prowling about to insure everyone's fine and to growl and snap her into line. Fine muscles stretch under her tanned skin when she warms up, sweat rolling down her collarbones after a good run and she hitches her shirt to wipe at her face, the way her bitten lips spread when she grins... It's all beautiful. Touko reaches idly for her water bottle and takes a few big gulps, watching Iwaizumi's butt lower into a receive, and almost chokes after breathing in wrong.

But it's kind of weird to be attracted to someone like Iwaizumi, right? So she goes all the way with the next guy she dates, some second year on the baseball team, and figures out that yeah. She's seriously not into dicks. They're gross looking and are kind of squishy, and guys don't appreciate them being laughed at when they boast that it's the largest on their team. _Who cares about being the largest_ , she'd asked between giggles. Her boyfriend had only flushed and pushed her down, grinning at her startled shriek as his hands drifted to push up her shirt and under her bra, cupping her breasts in a way that made her gasp and writhe with every pinch.

 _His hands were rough, but not in the same way Iwa-chan's are_ , she remembers. _Iwa-chan's are nicer._

Touko doesn't take long to admit to herself that she might be totally in love with her best friend. It's nothing she can deny to herself, when every little thing the other girl does sends a fire raging across her skin, nothing a shower can fix because Iwaizumi's there with the rest of the team grinning and laughing. Touko tries not to let the fact that Iwaizumi looking so carefree with other people bother her, but the feelings mount higher and higher to the point where she cuts her hour long shower a little short with the complaint of fatigue and ends up sprawling across the gym floor, staring up at the bright lights with an uneasy, odd feeling in her chest. It doesn't go away, so she rolls out a cart of volleyballs and puts her frustration into practice, so she can wipe the floor with the two other nuisances in her life.

"You showered," she freezes at the voice if not the _tone_ , "and you're starting to practice along again."

She pauses for only a moment, then serves the ball to the other side. It lands a thump that her heart seems to mimic as Iwaizumi goes to the opposite side of the net and picks it up, serving it into the cart.

"I'll just take another shower. I do love them, after all. They're nice."

"That's not the problem, moron. What the hell're you doing? Don't you have a date or something like that?"

The way Iwaizumi says it, irritated at Touko's lack of care for herself and frivolous date game, makes her serve the next one hard, tsking when it's received easily.

"I'm free today, so I thought I'd do a little extra. That's all."

Iwaizumi's scowl is blocked partially by the net, lines boxing off parts of her face and squeezing tightly at Touko's heart as a wave of irritation sweeps through her. It wasn't any of her business what she did in her spare time. Dates, extra practice, or just laying around doing nothing. None of it was Iwaizumi's business, but it's not something she'd ever say out loud because as annoyed as she is by it at times the amount she's grateful for her friend's tough love overpowers it ten fold.

They practice together for a straight hour before Touko feels better, panting and leaning on her knees, and she flashes a grin across the court.

"Wanna get crepes? There's a place that's only a little detour off our usual run. It's really, really good and I'll pay." Iwaizumi stares at her, breathing just as hard, and shrugs. Sweets were never her poison. Touko knows that. But she also knows that Iwaizumi's grateful for the offer of food and payment, since Touko herself rarely had to pay for anything. Boys were stupid and eager to please.

During their second shower, Touko traces the lean muscles of her friend from beneath the water with a cast aside gaze, the other simply letting the hot water run over her. Iwaizumi is powerful looking. In an open sort of way. They're just around the same height - though Touko proudly boasts a few centimeters on her, and Iwaizumi was blessed outwardly with her missing few - but they were different in any other fashion. No one'd ever guess that a girl like Touko, who's gone out with every boy in their year and then some, would want to fit her head between those thick, tanned thighs and bury her face into--

"Hey!" Touko's eyes dart back up, maps out the creases in Iwaizumi's faces, watches the droplets roll down them and down her neck and she won't let her gaze go any further, mind already supplying the rest of its journey as she forces a grin and shuts off her own shower, heat flushed across her skin for an entirely different reason. Her friend's concerned. Is she okay? Feeling sick? Worked herself too hard, again? "You got enough sleep last night, right? You didn't spend every bit of energy you had on what we did just now, right?"

Oh, if there was energy to spend, she'd _definitely_ want to cash in on Iwaizumi. But Touko just nods, moving to towel herself off, and wonders for a stint if her best friend finds her just as entrancing, as beautiful to watch. Maybe. They'd traded lingering glances before, though she could just be checking conditions while Touko was checking her out.

"Don't worry about me, Iwa-chan. I promise with all my heart I went to sleep early last night."

"Then I shouldn't believe what you say, considering you don't have any heart."

"You're so mean!" Tossing her towel at Iwaizumi, she grins as she sets her legs apart and puts her hands on her hips, relishing quietly in the way Iwaizumi's eyes rake down her flushing body. Her heart quickens and she pulls herself closed, turning and swinging her hips to grab her clothes. Touko can feel her friend's eyes on her, but when she checks back over her shoulder Iwaizumi's just toweling off and dressing herself, leaving her to feel stupid for having a hope that this was mutual.

("Well, it _was_ mutual," Touko amends to Makki and Mattsun later on, twirling the blueberry lollipop in her mouth, popping it out and waving it around with a sigh. The other two girls share a look. "But Iwa-chan's duty bound to give no quarter when it comes to that kinda stuff."

"I wouldn't either. You're a known terror."

"Mattsuuun that's so meaaaan...")

So she might be really, truly, foolishly in love with Iwaizumi. So what. That wasn't a _bad_ thing, maybe, it was pretty troublesome since it's totally one hundred percent not mutual, and seeing her with anyone else reaaally boils her blood, and Touko's irritation might be completely obvious at times, judging by the way girls and guys alike keep their distance. But what else is she supposed to do? There's... really _nothing_ she can do, besides cry for an unspoken reason in an over-sized sweater littered with popcorn and snot, watching the latest installment of her shows in the darkness of her room. Tissues spread poetically across her floor like fallen petals and she reaches for another, sniffing hard when she finds out they're all gone.

Wonderful. Peachy keen, _exactly_ what she needs. Touko stands, swaying slightly, and tosses the empty box into her tissue filled waste bin as she slugs out, peeking into the living room--

"Iwa-chan! What're you doing here, huh? And you scold _me_ for sneaking into your house," trying to wipe away the tears and snot and there is _definitely_ no chance Iwaizumi doesn't know she's been crying. At least she doesn't know why.

"Your mom told me to come over," she replies after a moment, coming to stand in front of Touko with a sigh, hands on her hips as she looks her over. "She said you wouldn't come out of your room and wasn't sure if you've been eating. Love troubles?"

Touko looks aside, sniffling, and shrugs as she tries to remember where they put their extra tissue boxes. It was a known fact between their families that the only one who was ever able to bring her our of a crying spell was Iwaizumi. Oh, how she cursed that now! "Of a kind, I suppose. Have you ever had an unrequited love, Iwa-chan? That horrible, lonely feeling, that coldness that just won't leave your bones, the icicle stabbing into your heart and leaving a hole where it melts? I have been eating, by the way, but it's mostly just popcorn."

"You'll get fat." But shakes her head. Iwaizumi didn't seem like the kind of girl to have them anyway, Touko's sure of that, so she sighs miserably and leans against her friend, wrapping her arms around her waist and relishes in the warmth while she can. It's probably weird to hear that she's got a one-sided love, actually, and Iwaizumi says as much. Touko coughs a laugh and takes her hand, grinning sheepishly as she pulls her back to her room and slides her feet across the tissue covered ground to make a path.

"Not even _I_ am exempt from such sorrows, Iwa-chan. I don't think there's a chance at all they like me back the way I do. I'm just..." She hesitates, dropping down onto her bed and resting against Iwaizumi when she joins her, "I'm stupid."

"Finally admitting it, huh." Touko smacks her lightly, but Iwaizumi just wraps an arm around her and _oh_ , how she'd like that hand lower, maybe pressing into the curve of her breast or just above her hip, fingers rubbings circles into her skin and driving her mad. "What makes you think they won't like you back?"

"It's just the kind of person they are. Trust me, Iwa-chan, there's not a chance in the whole wide _world_. This is the one that gets away. That not even the beautiful, elegant, desirable Oikawa-san is able to obtain."

The other girl laughs, shaking her head in disbelief, and Touko's lips turn upward, straining at her next words. "I'd like to meet this person then. They sound smart, not being interested in a money grabbing ditz like you."

"... They're closer than you'd think," she admits after a pause, heart beating wildly as she thinks that maybe she should just confess and get it over with. Iwaizumi's hand moves up and down her arm, a comforting weight against her, and Touko lets out a shaky sigh. "If I tell you who they are, will you promise me you won't... do anything embarrassing?"

Iwaizumi probably doesn't see why she has to promise _anything_ and says as much, Touko laughing as she shakes her head. Fine. That's true, it's whatever, there's not much the other girl can do. But she still can't look at her best friend, playing with her hair, curling it around her fingers and making knots that are smoothed out the next moment. The room feels too stuffy. The air stale. Too close to the girl she's pretty much head-over-heels with, as much as she'd love to deny it and act like nothing was wrong, but the crying fit proved she couldn't. Touko wets her lips.

"Well, so, I've liked this person for a long time... Kind of figured it out when I was sitting in front of a dick and thought it looked like a cat's scratching post over anything remotely appetizing," a pause to let it sink in that she's not exactly into guys. Iwaizumi hums for her continue, resting her chin on Touko's shoulder and _god_ that feels nice, she wishes the other girl would kiss her right there and everywhere else. "She's really hot. Like, whenever I'm around her I feel like I'm a waterpark--"

"That's so _gross_."

"-- And I can't stop looking at her. She's so," her hand moves to Iwaizumi's thigh, "very," trails up against the tensed muscles, " _distracting,_ Iwa-chan."

It seems like it clicks into place, judging from the way Iwaizumi's hand stills. Touko sighs and curls up, hugging her legs. Her hand still feels tingly and it itches to return to the toned leg it'd been resting on, but she keeps it very firmly trapped under her less tainted one. "I really, really like this girl, but I don't think there's a chance she returns the feelings... at least the want I want her to. "

"And what makes you say that?" Iwaizumi's voice cracks a little, far from the steady curiosity from before. "You never had an unrequited love in the first place, you stupid idiot."

It's quiet for an entire minute, Touko's brain fried and restarting itself, and she lands back on one hand as she turns with a jerk, face burning and voice going up octaves. "What?! What do you mean, Iwa-chan? Really? You like me?"

"Don't shout like that!"

"You're the one who's shouting!"

Iwaizumi's face is red too and her glance moves away, settles on some point over Touko's shoulder and she can't even blame the other girl. "... Stop crying, you baby."

"I'm not-- I'm not crying," she mumbles, self-consciously wiping her sweater sleeve across her face just in case. She is, but whatever, her heart's pounding hard and she doesn't know if she wants to lean into her best friend's space like normal or stay at this careful distance, the unfamiliarity of the situation putting her nerves on edge. Iwaizumi chooses for her as she presses their foreheads together, the odd gentleness of the motion bringing a new wave of tears. Touko feels the other girl's hands brushing them away and she sniffles, pushing forward and toppling them both over with a whine of her friend's name.

It feels like hours pass like that, her heart settling as she presses her ear against Iwaizumi's chest to hear the one beneath, and the fit dries to a minimal sniff every now and then, Iwaizumi combing through Touko's hair steadily. This is how it ended most of the time anyway, but there's something a little different as she props her chin up and stares at her best friend, the gaze returned evenly.

"... Wanna make out?" She asks, grins at the red blooming on Iwaizumi's face and crying out when the tender hair petting turns into a harsh tug. Just when she's about to complain about the lack of good will towards someone who just confessed to you, the grip loosens, rests behind her head, and she feels herself being moved forward, fingers tangled in her hair and chapped lips on hers.

 _Iwaizumi really needs to start using something for her lips,_ Touko thinks to herself. _I'll buy her something I won't mind kissing._


	13. centuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because a good portion of the fandom was wrecked by 147, haha... i wrote this for a friend and made her cry so that's that and i'm happy with it. it's only a little bittersweet!
> 
> shout out to furudate for giving the most satisfactory character development i've ever seen out of a rival team, making me cheer for them every step of the way even when i knew in my heart it wouldn't last. seijou has been an inspiration to me for months now and i can't be happier to see what's in store for them next year as well!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My, my, what beautiful blossoms we have this year. But look - this one’s late! But when it does, it will be the most beautiful of them all."

Oikawa isn’t sure how to feel, as a whole. He’s numb. There’s no sense of hopelessness or frustration like against Shiratorizawa, staring at Kageyama and having known the day of his reckoning would come in the form of his haunting past. He’s surprisingly calm. The thought of _If Tobio’d been on this team, I wouldn’t be a regular crosses_ his mind and is promptly replaced with _I would be on the court no matter_ what _, no matter_ who _got in my way_ but the numbness doesn’t go away. Oikawa sees everything with the perfect clarity of someone in shock (because he remembers that, staring down at his throbbing leg the first time before he’d gotten his brace and feeling calm for a few minutes where there was noise and shouts all around him) and as it dies down the roar of the crowd reminds him of where he is, who he is, what’s happened and his gaze lowers to his hand, the red of the receive stinging slightly.

Ah, well. It just wasn’t his time then, was it?

One minute he’s on the court and the next he finds himself sitting in the stands, waiting to see the outcome of Shiratorizawa and Karasuno’s first match ever, and there’s a quiet fear trembling through him of _what if this is the year Shiratorizawa falls and it’s really the natural geniuses who can fight against each other_ and he _knows_ that’s not true, because year after year, match after match, his team of six and theirs have grabbed points from each other in a game of cat and mouse, no matter how chasing for victory and falling short it was. Shoulders press into his on both side and he glances aside at both of them - only Hanamaki meets his gaze with puffed eyes, Matsukawa’s attention is on the game - and Oikawa leans his head back to stare at Iwaizumi. His best friend meets his eyes with a gaze that translates into something that’s like _are you okay_ mixed with _we’ll get them next year_ and _I should have done more, sorry_ , and there’s no _way_ Oikawa’s letting _any_ of his teammates get away with that thinking when he’d been so entrenched in it for so long in the first place.

That team of six was just stronger than theirs.

His attention returns to the game and he remembers the score later on, remembers taking home a CD to watch later like always (it’s habit at this point), remembers slinging his bag over his shoulder and leading the way out of Sendai’s stadium for the last time that year but not the last _ever_ because Oikawa’s going to come back next year and the year after that until he gets to where he wants.

The words he tells his worn team, the people who had supported him for three years and would maybe continue that into university or college or whatever, are genuine and heartfelt, the thanks and deep bow punctuated with the smallest million watt smile he can offer to them when the drain of the game and events of today finally layers on them, and when the second and first years leave he lets his guard down just a _little_ and drops onto the bench, staring glumly at the lockers.

“Well,” he says, breaking the silence left over and the tension afterwards, “that sucked.”

There’s cracked laughter (Hanamaki’s) and Oikawa rubs his hands, smile dropping when Matsukawa’s low voice rises up.

“You owe us ramen, captain. Don’t think you’re getting out of that.”

“Yeah, you’re paying for every last noodle.”

“Sheesh, you’re rubbing my wounds raw already?” But as bad as he feels about the whole thing, aching and tears prickling at the edge of his eyes as it settles into him again that they lost and his receive was at fault, Oikawa finds it in him to laugh and stand, glancing at the last, silent member of their year. Iwaizumi’s got his head resting on the locker, eyes closed. He steps over like normal and leans against his best friend, feels the slight tremble and hides the heat of his cheeks in the other’s uniform as his voice breaks. “Iwa-chaaaan, tell them to stoooop.”

“... Nope. You _do_ owe us, you know,” there’s no hiding that shake even as Iwaizumi straightens and turns around, eyes wet and jaw set. “Let’s get going, captain.”

“Sheesh~. You guys are robbing me blind.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa leave first and Oikawa sits back down where he’d been, listening to Iwaizumi rustle around with final preparations to leave. Their lockers have to be cleaned out, but that’s tomorrow’s task. All there is to do is to lock up.

“Tobio sure grew fast, didn’t he? A true mark of a genius.”

“Oikawa--”

But he holds up his hand, a small smile playing on his lips as he turns to Iwaizumi’s exasperated, angry, irritated expression, all born out of the steadfast fussy nature of his. Iwaizumi quiets down and stares, ready to snap if there’s a single wrong word, and that has always touched him, a small reminder of the past they’ve shared and how his best friend’s rough and tumble way really hid that adorable motherly side.

“He’s in his prime, Iwa-chan. By the time we meet him again - if our paths cross again, which I have a feeling it will - he won’t be so lucky in getting away.” Oikawa bares his teeth in his grin and it’s only once that Iwaizumi’s expression has settled that he continues, getting undressed. “Ushiwaka got lucky in not facing us again.”

“Yeah. We would’ve kicked his ass no problem.”

That’s right. They didn’t get the chance to, but they would’ve. Oikawa presses his shirt to his face and breathes in the sweat, the hard work, the memories of these past three years and stays there, letting it soak up his tears. _Next time_ , he repeats to himself silently, bringing the white away and smiling at the heavy mark beneath the one. _Next time,_ neither _of them will be so lucky to face us and get away with victory._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all."


	14. it's actually about coffee this time can you believe it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffeeshop part time jobs are great for like, cute things. especially if the person you like is a regular. too bad that guy always gets it to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this for that [iwaoi vday zine](http://swagoba.tumblr.com/post/110988330634) last month! and pretty much in the nick of time too, whoops. i still love it a lot

Three years in a row he’s been preparing the Valentine’s special the same way and not once has Iwaizumi even _bothered_ to look under the cover. Oikawa broods on his break, tracing hearts into the wooden table, and shoots up when the bell chimes and in walks... nobody he cares about, causing him to slump back down with a sigh.

_You’ve got it bad,_ that ass Kuroo had observed. _Like,_ really _bad. You two’ve been friends for_ how _long and you can’t even confess? Man, I sure am glad I’m not you. That’d drive me_ crazy.

Right, right, laughing stock of his job. In love with his best friends of too many years to count or care and has never acted on his heart’s desires. Not that he couldn’t (there were so many chances to say something or do something that he wonders if Iwaizumi doesn’t already know and is just waiting for him to give in first) but he just... It was so nice and comfortable as things were now. Or it had been, until he’d been reminded that Iwaizumi’s actually rather popular with girls and guys alike and a flame of jealousy had seared right through him, a gaping wound that was cured with the salt of his best friend’s laughter and grins to _other people_. Oikawa thumps his head on the table to forget it and tucks his arms under his cheek, staring at the counter blearily.

“... We don’t serve alcohol here, right?” He asks across the way to Haiba, his newest shiftmate that’s been with him for about a week now and has proven to be quite the honest, if gullible, young man.

“We’re not _supposed to_ , Oikawa-san...”

It’s quiet for a moment, then Oikawa groans and slips out of his seat, slugging over to the counter to order. He leans against it, tapping his index on the glass, and looks down at the pastries they offer.

“Haiba-kun, please make for me the blackest coffee we’ve got, no softening, nothing. Love has embittered my romantic soul.”

“But you hate it straight black!”

“I didn’t ask for your obvious commentary, you oversized alley cat,” he snaps, drumming his fingers above a chocolate tart. “Just get me it.”

Haiba frowns at him but does as asked, setting it in front of him and Oikawa pays, dropping some tip into the jar beside the cashier as he goes back to His Table and just sits there, clutching the hot coffee. While it’s true that he _does_ hate it like this - much too bitter, just like the people who can drink it - it’s a comforting warmth and smell away from the sweeteners and cream. Besides, he might be able to stand it this time. _Be a man, Tooru! Iwa-chan can’t make fun of you if you get at least half down!_

The loud coughing alerts several of the customers and they watch Oikawa worriedly as he buries his face into his arm groaning. His tongue was burned. And it’s _still_ gross and bitter. There’s not a single change since yesterday, week, and year before. He hears the chair scoot out in front of him and he thinks it must be Haiba come to talk, so he starts to babble and lift his head, eyes closed and resting against his palm.

“I just don’t understand - I’ve been dropping hints for _years_ , Haiba-kun, rather obvious ones too - but it’s not like I’ve ever said anything, and since I started working here I thought it’d be a cute way to tell Iwa-chan--” His words cut off abruptly when he opens his eyes, staring at Iwaizumi across the table, and he closes his mouth. Then opens it, and snaps it shut. Oikawa Tooru, long lost cousin of the rainbow trout. He clears his throat, face and throat burning, and forces a smile to his best friend’s puzzled expression. “Ah, Iwa-chan... You’re early.”

“Yeah. We had a test and I finished.” _Please don’t bring it up_ , Oikawa prays quietly. Iwaizumi’s lip purse and he opens his mouth, thinking better of something and just taking the coffee between them, sniffing it. “... You got it straight?”

Oikawa nods, sitting up against the chair even if he’d really just like to sink into the ground and die. “I wanted to see how much I could get through--”

“He ordered it for his embittered romantic soul, Iwazumi-san!” Haiba calls from behind the counter and ooooh Oikawa’s going to _kill_ that tall bastard. He glares at the cashier and makes a slicing motion under his chin, though Haiba just sticks out his tongue and gets to the next customer.

“... I’ve been having a little bit of trouble,” he admits breezily, looking everywhere but his problem. “As you know, I’ve always been rather romantic--”

“Disturbingly so.”

“-- And the person of my affection just seems to ignore it. And they never check under their coffee top. At all.”

Iwaizumi’s staring at him - he knows, he can feel it and see it from the quick glance he gives the other - and he drums his fingers on the table as he stands abruptly with a laugh.

“Ah, well, look at the time, Iwa-chan, my break’s almost over so I’ve gotta--”

“Sit down,” and Oikawa slams back down, avoiding Iwaizumi’s gaze. “Are you seriously upset that this person doesn’t look under the stupid lid? Do you even _tell them_ to?”

“Well, _no_ , but...”

“Then they’re not _gonna_ , dumbass. Tell them and they will.”

Like it’s totally obvious. Because it is, he knows, but now he’s got the dilemma of if he says something to Iwaizumi _now_ he’ll _know_ and--

Well. That was the point. Confessing with a cup of coffee. _If only Iwa-chan had just opened it the first time_ , he thinks ruefully as he nods and stands up slower this time. _Then I wouldn’t be having such a stupid problem he’s not even aware of_.

“You’re such a hopeless case, Iwa-chan, there’s nothing romantic in that.” A little scolding, but it’s enough that Iwaizumi just rolls his eyes and pushes the coffee back at him with a _Take your damn tainted drink with you_. “Tainted?! More like blessed, you know--”

“I’ll take my usual, on the house.”

“Why on the house?”

“Because you’ve wasted ten of my busy minutes with your trivial dramatic bullshit,” he growls with a lack of real anger (their normal banter, perfectly settled and fine), and Oikawa laughs cheekily as he takes the ‘tainted coffee’ and goes back behind the counter to make Iwaizumi’s, staring at the dark liquid and plopping a heart in like he’s always done the past week for the last three years. Maybe he’ll take a hint. Maybe he’ll open it this time.

He tries not to look disappointed when Iwaizumi does what he usually does and sips at it instead, reading the book in front of him. Haiba asks him if something’s the matter and it takes all of Oikawa’s will not to glare daggers at the newbie, grinning widely as he pats his back instead and scowling softly when he turns away to tidy up the area.

“It takes a lot of patience to deal with some people, Haiba-kun. Please remember that when you’re serving customers.”

 

The next day proves just as fruitless, as does the one after that, but it’s on the fourth day of Valentine’s week that Iwaizumi has seemingly wisened up to Oikawa’s moodiness and dead on asks him if he (Oikawa) wants him (Iwaizumi) to _open the damn lid_. The barista sniffs, looking away, and replies, “Is that all, Iwa-chan? No breakfast?”

He frowns at the avoided question, but nods. “I can’t stay long.”

“We’re still up for lunch, aren’t we?” There’s an affirmative grunt for a reply as he brews the coffee, adding in the usual heart pattern that’s never going to be looked at anyway. “Good. I’ve got a lot of gossip to tell you that _needs_ to be heard.”

“You’re such a trash talker.”

"And you _love_ it. Here.” Oikawa slides it at him, smirk dropping as Iwaizumi pops the cap off and stares down at the heart, lifting his brow with a light tug of his lips. The barista opens his mouth and then shuts it, cheeks starting to burn, and he orders Haiba to take his place for a few minutes as he follows Iwaizumi to his usual table, sliding into the seat with a guilty hold on his heart.

It’s quiet. Just two men staring at the opened coffee, the heart a little deformed from the trip over. Oikawa swallows.

“You’re not sneaky,” Iwaizumi murmurs and his eyes snap up, watching the skin darken across his friend’s cheeks. “I don’t know if you’ve got it in your head that you are, but you’re _really not_ sneaky.”

“So-- So you _knew_?” He hisses, throat tightening. Oh, no, he hadn’t thought this through at all. All he’d gotten to was ‘put a heart in Iwachan’s coffee,’ he never thought past that because _Iwaizumi never looked under the lid_.

“ _Of course I did_. I _just_ said you’re not sneaky, didn’t I? What made you think I’d ever look at what I was drinking anyway, you dumbass?”

“If you knew, then why haven’t you said anything?!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes (Oikawa gasps lightly, dramatically, but he’s starting to feel better because it’s not an _immediate_ rejection) and swirls the heart with the tip of his finger, sticking it in his mouth. “‘Cause it’s not world ending that an asshole like you likes me. You’ve always been this way. An.d how the hell did you think I _wouldn’t_ know, you bring up the time I promised to marry you like ten times a _week_. And you slipped up earlier this week too. Your hints are like _bricks_.”

Oikawa stares pensively at him, twiddling his thumbs and then watching the table. “... So... What’s your reply, Iwa-chan?”

Trying to sound normal, like he’s not nervous that his best friend might reject him (but it really wouldn’t be too bad, he’d just have to accept that platonics are good enough and there’s nothing wrong with that, maybe cry a little in the backroom and spend his free night watching horror films).

“... Not safe for your workplace,” he grumbles back, standing and pushing the lid back on. Oikawa’s face is on fire, thoughts of what _that_ could mean shooting through his head. “I can’t _believe_ you thought I too stupid to realize something like this.”

“Well, Iwa-chan’s always had a track record of being oblivious to other people’s feelings--”

“ _Other people_ , Oikawa. Not you.” Iwaizumi pauses, looking like he’d just swallowed something bitter for a moment, and shakes his head. “Besides, you basically announce it to the world on a daily basis.”

“I do not!”

Iwaizumi snorts, ruffling his hair. It’s warm and comforting. It makes his chest tight in the best way, his head’s light, and Oikawa feels a smile pull at his cheeks. “Get back to work, slacker. We’ve got time later.”

“Oh, and we’ll be using it _wisely_ \--”

“Eating.”

“You’re no fun.” He pouts, then grins and dares to peck Iwaizumi on the cheek, teeth showing when he dances out of reach of the other. “I’ll see you later, Iwa-chan~.”

Iwaizumi scowls at him, red from the tip to tip, and leaves with coffee in hand. Oikawa hums and slides back into his spot, bumping Haiba out of the way.

“So... Are you two going out now?” The beanstalk asks, and Oikawa’s humming rests.

“... It doesn’t really matter,” light and airy and _on top of the world_ , “though we’re _already_ engaged. He said he’d marry me when we were kids after all. And Iwa-chan _always_ keeps to his word. It’s the thing I like most about him.”

A tad bit honest, maybe a little too much so, but nothing else comes to mind and Oikawa entertains Haiba’s steady questions about their apparent twenty year engagement, from _when did you find out you liked him_ and _how did you know_ to _when’s the wedding_ and _am I invited?_ \- to which he answers:

“No. Iwa-chan likes small things, and since he asked me I might as well give him that.” He pauses, chest filling with warmth again. “But you’re welcome to come to the after party. I’m letting _everyone_ come then.”

Haiba looks _thrilled_ and Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek, texting Iwaizumi about the wedding plans and laughing as he gets a simple _no_ and then _we’ll talk later_ in reply. At least it’d finally paid off.


	15. breast friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oikawa had never been a girl who knew the word "shame"; she reveled in all that life was, enjoyed herself to the fullest, and honestly iwaizumi wants a break. this is too much.

It's been a rumor - a superstition - passed around the boys of the class, that the underside of your upper arm felt like a girl's boob. Iwaizumi thinks this is ridiculous and he is _absolutely_ not going to try.

In public.

In private, he wonders if it _really_ feels this soft, his cheeks warming as he gently squeezes the flesh and thinks about the girls in his class, who've been getting prettier by the day while he feels like he's just been getting kind of tall (which is fine for volleyball) and awkward. The fascination with the underarm trick doesn't lessen until he remembers that _unfortunately_ he has a friend who would gladly take it upon herself to educate the lowly masses of stupid boys.

"It's actually softer than boobs," Oikawa tells him, carefree in her boxer briefs and t-shirt. "I can't believe you'd try it, Iwa-chan, you're such a perv~."

But before he can even get a word out she sits up with a grin that spells trouble, asks "Do you wanna touch a real one, Iwa-chan?" like it's the most natural thing in the world, and Iwaizumi wishes he could drown out the fire spreading across his body. Just shy of fourteen and Iwaizumi's debating if it's worth the teasing he's no doubt going to get in return for the truth. It's not like Oikawa herself makes him embarrassed, though she's embarrassing in an entirely different way, but... The curve of her developing breast teases him as she smooths down her shirt and presses it to her body, quirking slightly.

"Well, Iwa-chan? I'm only doing this because it's you, you know," and while the words should be comforting they instill a deep fear into Iwaizumi he'd rather not think about, because then he might realize something and that'd be that. Would never be able to forget it. "Once in a life time chance, Iwa-chan~."

(While in the future, he'd sit on the sidelines to keep an eye on her and her goings with other guys, pointedly ignoring the turmoil in his gut and scolding her for anything but what was in front of her. How many of those guys had touched her?)

"... I'll take your word for it," he finally decides, and Oikawa groans.

"Iwa-chaaaaan, I'm happy you trust me so much, but I'm serious! And then you get to teach all our friends!" Because Oikawa's still very much a tomboy right now, even if she's been touching skirts in stores and trying on this nice smelling scent that makes Iwaizumi's stomach flip at odd times. "Don't you want them to know the truth?"

"Why don't you just let them see for themselves?"

Iwaizumi can't really believe his eyes, watching as his friend's cheeks darken and she draws a little into herself, pulling the shirt's hem and twisting it around her fingers. Was she nervous? Why? Oikawa's rarely, if ever, nervous, and that's usually only brought on by the excitement of a match.

"... Because," she mutters, "this is just for Iwa-chan. I want to embarrass him more than anyone."

Figures. His stomach drops for the same reason as before, the one he doesn't want to think about, and he rolls his eyes.

"Fine. But I bet it's exactly the same."

"It's not! It really isn't! I have boobs, so I know better than anyone!" Oikawa insists, pulling her shirt off without a hint of shame (and this is a new habit, looking away when she did things thoughtlessly like this, because Oikawa is nothing but thoughtlessness sometimes and that drives Iwaizumi _mad_ ). She's not bothered in the least by the lack of Iwaizumi's attention, and he keeps his eyes firmly on the bed when he hears another shift of clothing and oooooooh god, that's a bra. It's not "mature" like the ones his mom has in the wash, but it's still very much a bra and Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut, willing it away.

It doesn't go away. It just sits there, taunting him like the pale skin of Oikawa's hand reaching over to grab his. He _almost_ tugs away, the fear stirring up again, but she's gripping him tightly. No escape.

"Touch your underarm and you'll see for yourself," the words are faraway to Iwaizumi, eyes trailing across his arm to his trembling hand just in front of her body. He won't look any farther than that-- He wants to, but he can't. It's just a feeling. An instinctual knowledge that he _can't_ if he wants to live peacefully with himself. Oikawa's seemingly unbothered, from the curve of her lips (amusement, though her body's getting redder the longer this goes on, she's always blushed with every part of herself) and licks them. It draws his attention to her pink face and he's startled by how intensely she's looking at him, uncertain but determined. It makes his mouth dry.

Is this another part of what his mom told him? That girls grow up faster? Would Oikawa be this way even if she was a guy? Probably. There's no stopping that.

"... I'm going to compare them now," Iwaizumi mutters, captivated by the tug of her teeth on her bottom lip as she nods. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his upper arm at the same time he places his hand forward lightly, burning at her small gasp.

It feels like hours. Hesitantly, he squeezes her too, then his arm, and figures that she's right. Maybe. Or was she softer? Were girls always this soft? No, _girls_ were. Was _Oikawa_? When had Oikawa gotten soft like this? She still has a leanness any sports player did, he knows, but... She's still so soft. Soft's not even a word to him anymore. It's just there. Soft. Soft. So--

"You can stop touching me now, Iwa-chan," and he recoils at her trembling voice, heat flushing his body and there's that weird feeling, it's not quite a fear feeling but it's something like it, the same turmoil and rolling. Oikawa won't meet his eyes and she's twice as red as he is (maybe? doubtful, he feels like he's on fire), but she lays on her front and picks at the sheets.

It's a few calm down minutes before she lifts her head and looks at him from the side, cheeks still pink but the rest of her as pale as ever. "I was right, right? It's so much softer than boobs."

Iwaizumi hums in response, eyes going to the bra. What kind was it, anyway? Were there different kinds? It's a little less embarrassing to think about than Oikawa's... her... just Oikawa. Because Mom had them too. Yeah. Bras. And breasts. But Oikawa's are the ones preoccupying his mind, because his mom's a woman and that means Oikawa's becoming a woman too, and one day she might be a mom too and Iwaizumi kind of, maybe, wouldn't mind being the dad?

It's a simple thought he stops right there.

No.

That is what he had been avoiding and now he can't go back. Great.

"It's called a sports bra, Iwa-chan. I have some fancier ones, but I'm, um, not big enough to fill them yet. And these are plenty comfy! And good for me anyway, since I do volleyball and all."

"-- I didn't ask."

"You looked like you wanted to." There's more she wants to say, he can tell even through the haze of embarrassment and _why did he let this happen_ , but she holds her tongue, taking the sports bra from his view and leaving the shirt off. It acts like one of his undershirts, he notes looking over at her. Those always looked good on her too.

No. Stop. Don't. No further than that.

All the confidence Oikawa had not ten minutes ago seems to be on its last legs when they try to normalize things with studying, careful not to touch each other and ignoring the jerks when they do. It's almost funny. Or it would be, if Iwaizumi didn't feel partially at fault for it. Mostly at fault. He could've totally stopped this. Then he wouldn't thinking about stupid things and Oikawa. Thankfully a call from home saves them _both_ , but it feels kind of weird to say they'd see each other tomorrow when all Iwaizumi wanted to do was to maybe cut off all the ties he had to this world and drown himself. That'd _definitely_ be better than laying in bed, squeezing his underarm and thinking about how soft Oikawa's gotten.

Iwaizumi groans, pulling his pillow over his face, and does his _very best_ not to imagine Oikawa on top of him instead with reddened cheeks and the uncertain, shy look from before, chestnut hair sliding off her bared shoulders, tongue slipping out to wet her lips, softly calling his name,

"Hajime, dinner."

"-- Be right down!" He scrambles to sit up, heart pounding as he pushes the thoughts away.

 

Life only seems to get harder for him from then on. Iwaizumi notices everything about Oikawa - not that he hadn't before, but not like _this_ \- and everything makes him feel odd. There's the same fondness from before, all her stupid antics bringing around the same reactions they always had, but as she starts to look a little longer at other people instead of just the ball ahead of her Iwaizumi feels a pit being dug in his stomach. An itch he keeps scratching. The first time he lets it get the better of them and she looks so _distraught_ by his snappy words, even if she brushes them off a second later, that he decides to ball them up and push them aside.

Because, he learns, he's the one she comes back to anyway, comfortable enough to lay across his bed in nothing but her boyshorts and an old t-shirt no matter the day or time. Because, he realizes, that no amount of weird feelings can really get in the way of habit, that overthinking his own reactions to her is stupid and looking too deeply into Oikawa's teases and jokes is just as meaningless.

(They say the closer you are to something the more likely you are to miss it. Sometimes you just plainly ignore it.)

"Iwa-chaaaan, you know what I found out today?"

"Hm?"

"Your thighs feel more like boobs than your underarm does."

Iwaizumi stares at the words in front of him, tries not to remember The Incident a few months ago, and gives up trying to do his homework. " _What?_ "

"Mmhmm. I checked myself," laying flat on her back, legs in the air, squeezing her thigh gently as her other hand slips under her shirt. Iwaizumi doesn't know how to look away. It's a memory that is quietly saved for a more private time - much to his own disgusted shame - and Oikawa is infuriating in how _thoughtless_ her actions can be, scratching at her head before getting back to her thigh. "It's definitely more boob-like. Wanna touch?"

"No," but his mind immediately answers _yes_.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll take your word on it."

Oikawa stares at him, then extends her leg and lays it across his lap. Iwaizumi looks down at it, then back up at her with a shake of his head. No. Nope. No way.

"All you have to do is poke it, Iwa-chan." Since he already knows what her breast feels like, is what she's probably implying, and his face warms as he huffs and prods it quickly.

"There. Sure. It does. Whatever."

Oikawa scowls lightly for some reason, taking his hand and placing it on her thigh resolutely like she'd won. Iwaizumi's still not sure what to do, staring at his hand, and an idea sparks in mind. His lip twitches and he looks down at her with a small smirk, deciding a little bit of payback'll be fun for all the times she embarrassed him. To her credit Oikawa manages to just bite her lip as his fingers trail upward, like she doesn't think he'll go farther, and they linger at the hem of her shorts for a second, then skirt inward.

Her gasp is delicious.

So's her face, even if it was just a little thing, and part of Iwaizumi wants to keep on to see what else happens. The other part of him is of a reasonable sort and he takes his hand back slowly, trailing down to her knee before turning back to his homework.

"You're right," dry mouthed and ignoring the heat in his cheeks, "it's just as soft."

Now it's her turn to hum, bringing her legs to herself and scooting back to the other side of the table, tapping her pencil restlessly as she does her homework. Iwaizumi feels a little bad. Just a bit. But mostly he feels hot, the room stuff, and his hands itch to touch her again.

They do their homework in moderate silence.

When Oikawa's gone home again, he lays against his bed and stares at his hand, experimentally grabbing his thigh. Nope. Not the same. Not by a long shot. Iwaizumi stares at his ceiling and wonders if he'll ever get used to this feeling and, when he does, if it'll be too late to back out. Maybe it already was. He covers his eyes with his arm and sighs loudly.

Figures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! recently, i made a writing blog called [genkigratification](http://genkigratification.tumblr.com) you can follow as well, so please consider it! thank you!


	16. seijouline 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa: Q1. Hajime Iwaizumi has taken over and fallen asleep in my futon. How should I wake him up?  
> Oikawa: (1) Forehead flick (2) Pinch his nose (3) Tickle him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> courtesy of [seijo_line](http://twitter.com/seijo_line) on twitter as well as translations from [seijouline](http://seijouline.tumblr.com/post/112864850710/oikawa-q1-hajime-iwaizumi-has-taken-over-and) on tumblr

Three'd been the one decided on. Oikawa stretches his fingers, shaking his hands out, and makes sure the recording's on his phone before he kneels down and gently trails his fingers down Iwaizumi's side. The response is just some incoherent mumbling and Oikawa sighs in relief. He gives a thumbs up to the camera, trademark grin and wink, and gathers his courage as he says a small prayer in his mind.

Please don't let Iwaizumi kill him. Please. This is the only life he has.

Okay. Oikawa shakes his hands again and goes at it full force, Iwaizumi's eyes snapping open in clear panic and laughter chokes its way out. When he realizes what's going on, it turns to anger instead and he tries to attack back, tears prickling at the edges of his eyes.

"St-Stop that!"

"No way~! This is what you get for sleeping on _my_ futon, Iwa-chan~!" He's barely dodging the counterattacks, doing his best to keep in the phone's view, and finally straddles his best friend, fingers working against his toned sides eagerly. "You should know better!"

"I'm the host," Iwaizumi howls, face crimson as he gasps for breath, "I'm gonna kick you out!"

"Auntie asked me to stay~." His fingers slow and he rubs Iwaizumi's side soothingly, lips pulled back without his permission. "All woken up, Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi heaves for a few more seconds, nodding, and Oikawa yells when he's pushed over and straddled, breath coming out choked and pained the moment fingers touch his body.

"Mercy! Mercy!"

"No mercy for you, you shit, just wake me up like a normal person."

"I will!" Not.

"No you won't."

"Please," he gasps, " _please_ , Iwa-chan, have some mercy!"

Iwaizumi's being is blurred as the tears streak down his cheeks, laughter loud and ugly, and air's such a relief until his heart stops anyway, a thumb wiping his eyes.

"You're so ugly," Iwaizumi scoffs.

Oikawa grins, kisses Iwaizumi's hand and mouths the words into his palm. "But you love it, don't you, Iwa-chan."

He hums in reply, scooting off and climbing into his own bed. Oikawa sits up and turns off the light, going to the phone to turn off the recording and send the video to Hanamaki and Matsukawa. God really had blessed him. Iwaizumi didn't find out so therefore he lives another day. A few minutes later, Hanamaki and Matsukawa text him back. Amazingly, both of them comment about how it'd gotten pretty _intimate_ at the end and ask when they're planning on telling the rest of the team. Oikawa groans softly, pushing his warming face into his pillow, and replies to both of them that it's amazing how much they echo each other even when they're apart. It's supposed to be a jab back, but all he gets is texts filled with laughter on both ends. Jerks.


	17. senselessly smitten - iwaoi day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hanami in miyagi's on april 7th and it's oikawa's favorite time of year, the one thing he's always wanted to return for and finally being able to only makes him love iwaizumi even more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy iwaoi day!! just a little thing based from that writer/photographer thing i did so long ago, it's basically a bunch of senseless fluff

"We made it back in time!" It's the week of the hanami and Tooru couldn't feel more excited, waltzing over to Tokyo's baggage carousel with a foreign song slipping out of his lips, half hummed and half sung. It peters out when Iwaizumi bumps in beside him with their carry on luggage and he grins widely, brushing the back of their hands together like it's an accident. Like the warmth spreading from his fingers to the back of his neck is just from being home and nothing else. "We're home, Iwa-chan~. We can see the flowers bloom finally."

But home, Tooru's learned over the course of the few years they've spent travelling together, is wherever Iwaizumi is. And wherever he can roam pantless. That's important too.

"Do you wanna drop our stuff off at home or did you get a hotel like usual?"

"I got us a hotel~. That way we still stay together and don't have any nosy mothers prying~." Tooru makes to grab his hand-- but their luggage comes around at the same time and Iwaizumi pulls it off, leaving him utterly dissatisfied. Japan's not the best area for affection, he knows, but... Having traveled so much and been able to be so open, it stings a little. Tooru leaves it for another time and helps Iwaizumi out, humming another song softly.

All the luggage checked, room keys obtained, and Tooru's _finally_ able to get Iwaizumi to relax, coaxing him to the bed and away from their work. It's only early evening, but he can't be the only one who's exhausted. "It can wait, it can wait. I never thought _I'd_ be telling _you_ to relax though."

"Shut up. _You've_ got a deadline and _I_ have pictures to go through," even as he's being pushed down and wrapping his arms around Tooru's waist, tiredness melting away as Tooru runs slender fingers across his worry lines. The man smiles and props himself up on Iwaizumi's chest.

"We can take more pictures tomorrow." He whispers, reaching out a hand to pet Iwaizumi's hair. Iwaizumi leans into the touch with an agreeing hum, eyes closing with every passing second. Affection rolls in large, heavy waves and Tooru leans up enough to press a soft kiss against his lips, laughter cutting off when it's returned and there's a hand at the back of his head, rubbing his scalp softly as they trade slow, tired kisses through the jet lag.

 

Tooru wakes up sometime in the middle of the night and there's a valiant effort in removing himself from the arms trapping him before he gives in, stretching with a sigh. It does feel nice to be back in Japan. Just the knowledge of it, that there's familiarity outside the windows, is enough to relax him in a way that nothing else - barring Iwaizumi's deep massages - can manage.

 _He shouldn't bluff so much,_ Tooru thinks fondly as he tries a round two in getting out and succeeds this time, tucking Iwaizumi in more. _He's even more exhausted than I am, worrying about everything like usual. We've done this so many times I don't see how he still gets nervous about it._

But it's probably good to be cautious sometimes. He stretches again, shivering slightly at the difference in temperatures, and makes tea as quietly as he can manage to take to the modest balcony the hotel offers. The stars can't be seen that easy, but there's plenty of lights just in front of him. Cities are _always_ alive, no matter the time of day. It's nice. Always busy. And noisy, but it's not unpleasant.

But that's not why they came back. Tooru leans against the railing, breathing in the faintest scent of the blossoms ready to bloom by the river, and wonders if it's too late to call. 

"Don't think about it," Iwaizumi's groggy voice comes from behind him and a second later there's the arms trapping him again, a yawn stretched into his shoulder as the new weight presses him against the rail. "They'll keep you up longer than I do."

Tooru flushes and turns in his arms, a pout forming as he pats him lightly on the cheek. "I _hope_ you're not dirty talking me, Iwa-chan. You have a habit of that when you're sleepy."

"You just take it that way." It'd be true if Iwaizumi hadn't said that he'd love to see how far he could ram his dick down Tooru's throat when he was singing coming out of the shower just the other night. So he rolls his eyes with a muttered _Whatever you say, Iwa-chan_ , and enjoys watching the drowsy expression disappear as Iwaizumi wakes up, eyes growing sharper before he steals Tooru's tea and leans beside him.

"... Wanna stay up until the sun comes up?" Tooru asks, and Iwaizumi shrugs.

"Sure. I'm not getting back to sleep anytime soon anyway."

 

"Iwa-chan~, over here~." Tooru waves him down from beneath one of the cherry blossoms lining Sendai's streets and Iwaizumi comes over with their ice cream, camera bouncing against his chest. He gives Tooru both of the cups and the writer's confused until the familiar _snap_ draws his attention, a slow grin working onto his warming face. "I said you could take pictures, Iwa-chan, but at least wait until I'm ready."

"Nope. You look better when you're natural like that... And I'm not gonna use it for your article." The habit's still there, along with the the USB stick Iwaizumi's taking to his grave. Tooru's only seen a few pictures on it but they're all _embarrassing_ and he's positive the only reason Iwaizumi keeps them is for blackmail. "If you wanna pose, now's your chance."

So he does, just something to snap and forget until later when he's writing an article for tourists to enjoy the cherry blossom's blooming season too, and they sit under the pink canopy with their ice cream.

"Takeru's becoming a big brother soon."

"Yeah? I didn't think your sister wanted more kids."

" _Well_ ," Tooru drawls, leaning against Iwaizumi slightly. "They slipped up. So now Takeru's a big bro. I hope he'll be a good one."

"Considering he had you as his role model growing up? Yeah, I hope he turns out alright too."

"-- Iwa-chan, that's mean!"

Iwaizumi laughs and the sun's beaming down on Tooru in the worst way, it reminds him of hot summer days when they relaxed and he had to take quick glances to check out his best friend, not realizing he was a photographer himself at the time. Each one's a snapshot memory and now - now Tooru can just sit and watch, like it's a film, and his hands fidget against his empty cup. He's lucky. He knows that. It's nice and he takes a quick glance around before shutting Iwaizumi up with the quickest, sweetest kiss he can manage in public, hand curling against the space between them.

"Oikawa--"

"No one saw, it's okay. There was just some ice cream on your lip."

They both know it's not true, but Iwaizumi still tells him just to point it out and he'll get it himself. Tooru doesn't make any promises and tucks himself next to Iwaizumi anyway, dozing off in the warm spring weather and remembering the heavy scent of cherry blossoms hanging above them, the taste of chocolate on Iwaizumi's lips, and the thumb rubbing the back of his hand even in his dreams.


	18. beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of a friendship to weather the years, a trust forged by determination and truth, and a crush that starts so small neither of them think anything of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this 30 day writing challenge [here](http://inthenyxoftime.tumblr.com/post/53702766186/sherlocks-trousers-hawkwardeye-using-the). day one, beginnings.

"Are you okay?" There's a hand outstretched to him, tan and covered in bandaids the further Tooru looks up and _finally_ meets the other's eyes, distracted by the pretty green one across his nose. "That looked like a rough fall."

"I'm fine. It's nothing." But his throat is tight and eyes sting, already feeling the tears roll down his cheeks. He wipes them away and tries to stand on his own, stumbling and catching himself on the held out arm.

"Yeah, okay, sure. What were you thinking? No one's been able to climb that tree!"

Tooru sniffles, shakes his head, and smiles brightly through his tears and snotty nose, past the blockage in his throat that makes it hard to sound as confident as he feels. "I'm gonna be the first to the top."

The other boy looks taken aback at first, but snorts and grabs him by the wrist. "Whatever. I'll believe it when I see it, crybaby."

But even at a young age Tooru doesn't take challenges lightly, dragging his new (unwilling) friend to the tree at least once a week after diligent training to try and climb it again. Some days he makes it higher than he did before, each new branch a victory. Some days his hand are too raw from his routines to try and he sits with Hajime (that's his friend's name) under the tree, looking up and wondering what everything looks like from the top. Would he be able to see his house? Their school? What kind of things would he find on his way up?

"Maybe you'll find your head," Hajime would tell him when asked. "It seems pretty light."

"I'm not letting you have any treasures I find up there," he replies every time. "Not even if you beg."

"As if I would."

But it's a lie. Tooru brings down every old bird's nest he finds, the pile of cicada shells growing more each week, and when he figures out a good path to the top on his own time (it's even more pretty than he thought it would be, the view from the top of the world, and the first thought he has is _I want to share this with Hajime_ when he sees clearly across town) he takes Hajime by the hand and shows him where to put his feet, how to move and when to take chances. Unlike Tooru, who had been scared on his trips up and thinking about falling each time, being cautious not to suffer it again, Hajime seems fearless as he follows instruction, looking down at his feet to make sure he's got it right before he jumps up to a higher branch, and Tooru feels a quiet awe rise up at his friend.

When they hit as far as they can safely go, and he knows it's the spot because he tested the branches above and they were just too small, he settles close to the trunk and helps Hajime up, the other boy scooting in beside him so they're shoulder to shoulder. Tooru's waiting for anything - anything at all - and the silence is promising. Maybe he's stunned. Too taken for words. It's a beautiful sight, he knows, and he tries to keep his excitement from being visible as he searches his friend's face for something good.

"... You really got up here, Tooru," is what he says instead, and Tooru's hope falls.

"Well, yeah. I said I would. I _never_ go back on my word." It's disappointing that that's all he gets. He kicks his feet, tilting his head to look at his friend and sighs loudly. "You're the _second_ person to see this and _that's_ all you have to say."

"I thought you'd wuss out before you got to the top," Hajime admits, shoulders hunching to hide his embarrassment. "It's cool."

_It's cool._ They're just two words but Tooru grins, turning back to the sight with his heart beating fast. The coolest kid he knew said it was cool, so that means it's true. He hums happily and shrugs. "Yeah, I know."


	19. accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the (tiny) lawyer au no one asked for. oikawa's never lost a case as a prosecutor, but this defense attorney's got him on the run

"And your client has a solid alibi."

"For the last time, _yes_. Not that it's any business to the _prosecutor_."

"It's _plenty_ my business," Oikawa reasons, sliding the crossword puzzle back over and trying not to find the way Iwaizumi bites his pen so seductive. "I'm the one who's going to _destroy it_."

His opponent snorts, figures out another word and writes down his new score, and passes it back between their coffee. "Good luck. He's not guilty and you _know_ it."

"Whether I know it or not isn't up to debate." It's true though, the guy's done nothing wrong. Just mixed into the wrong crowd that wants some payback. "I'm being paid to put him in prison. That's all."

It's quiet after that, points stacking up until Iwaizumi's won by two, and he scowls at the paper.

"But you know it's wrong."

Prosecuting without justice. Oikawa twirls the pencil, glances at the other with a hint of fondness at his old fashioned ways (the thought that justice presides over all, that no matter the side they should strive for the good of man), and shrugs. "It might be," he ends up admitting, "but I've still never lost a case and I don't intend to start now _Iwa-chan_."

 

He doesn't intend to, but he _does_ lose the case. Oikawa forces himself to be polite and cordial, resentment building up inside and bitterness coating his actions with an acid his own client and the defense's shy from. There'll be words later. But for now, all there is his own downward spiral as he tries to figure out what went wrong, why he couldn't crack his case and at least put the guy in for a few years. Had he been holding back? The fault of that damnable thought of _But you know it's wrong_ that's been echoing in his mind since that afternoon? Who _cares_ if it's wrong (the cynical side shouts, slams his fists on the table hard enough for Oikawa to feel a phantom pain in his own,) it's a _job_ and he's _never lost_ so why start now?

"Everything was perfect," he mutters to himself, thrusting papers into his briefcase with little care. "So why? What happened, Tooru?"

The crossword puzzle from before slips out of the case and he watches it flutter down to rest on a pair of shoes, the hand that reaches down to pick it up familiar after countless meetings, countless days he'd just sat there to watch them move and gesture and _explain_ , and smirks disdainfully at Iwaizumi.

"Come to gloat, Iwa-chan? I would - the famous prosecutor who's never lost a case, yet one slipped right out of his fingers. Boy, would I _ever_ bust a gut at that."

Iwaizumi brushes past him to lay the crossword back where it belongs, lingering with their arms touching and Oikawa's thoughts aren't _go away_ they're of if the other can feel sparks too or if it's just him (from anger, he's sure). Finally he leans back, folds his arms together, and sighs. "I didn't come to gloat."

"Then what _for_ , Iwa-chan," strained just like his last nerve, "if not to mock me?"

"You hesitated."

... Hesitated?

"When you were questioning my guy." _All_ practitioners are sharp-eyed, Oikawa remembers bitterly. "And you still managed to appear deliberate and put him on edge. He came to the bench almost in tears."

What was the point of this? Why was Iwaizumi pointing out the flaws in his persecution so eagerly if not to antagonize him, to mock him, to gloat about his own victory over the _unbeatable_ (something he laughs inwardly at now, sobs clumping together in his throat) Oikawa Tooru? Was he hoping for some sort of fee? For Oikawa to throw his dignity and pride on the ground, to admit that justice prevails, that Iwaizumi was right? That no matter what, he'd lost and that was that?

"I wish you would get to your point. I have a meeting after this, you know." Each word is shaking and he stares pointedly at his briefcase when he returns to packing up. _Focus. Calm. Don't let him get to you. This is nothing but a pebble in your shoe, Tooru. Shake it off._

" _My point_ ," obviously annoyed by his dismissal, but what else did he expect, "is that you're a hard opponent to beat and I got out with the skin on my teeth."

" _I still lost_ ," he hisses, fingers crinkling a document before he tosses it down, breathes in, shuts the case, exhales. "Your defense was simply better than my offense. It was obvious that he had no reason to lie, nothing that would be against him, but I thought he'd crack under pressure and go with what I said to get off the stand. _Obviously_ whatever you prepped him with was enough to get him by regardless of what I did and thought, _congratulations_."

Iwaizumi sighs and leans on the table with his hip, still blocking Oikawa's way but leaving enough room to brush by if he dares. "You're a real sore loser, aren't you?"

He doesn't dignify that with a response, anger sliding into embarrassment when he realizes the other's right. His attitude hasn't been professional. No matter how well composed he wants to be, he can't accept a loss gracefully. It's not who he is.

(Not right now anyway, at the height of his career and being beaten by an attorney who seemed to come from nowhere. It was bad enough with _Tobio-chan_ taking his cases.)

"I've never lost in court," Oikawa murmurs, tilting his head to look at Iwaizumi. Bags under his eyes, creases in his forehead, an impatient tapping of his thumb on bicep - they're all small things he unconsciously files away like with anyone he knows, not exactly having a long friend's list. The corners of his lips pull downward as he squints at the other attorney, leaning against the table himself. "What's your game, Iwa-chan? Hoping to get some of my secrets by buttering me up?"

"I'll tell you what I told him if you get coffee with me," he says instead, straight faced and without a hint of shyness.

Oikawa's slow to react, eyes wide and blinking as he takes it in, and he snatches up his case, rounding the other side and trying to cool the heat gathering around his collar. "Fine. Same time, same place as today's - but _you're_ paying. Don't be late this time, Iwa-chan~."

"And next time we see each other in court?" He looks back with a smirk, half playful and half threatening, the promise of a new hunt with fresh dogs after their prey. "I won't lose."

Iwaizumi shrugs it off, but there's a welcoming glint in his eyes, voice low enough to make Oikawa's mouth water with anticipation of another game as he returns the threat, "Neither will I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll admit.
> 
> all my knowledge about lawyers and the court system comes from ace attorney. but it was too good to pass up.


	20. restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oikawa's changed a lot in the years iwaizumi's known him. it makes him want to keep going, to see what else lies behind the best friend he's known since childhood, to see what heights he reaches and to be with him every step of the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to mention yesterday's, i think? but today's [writing prompt](http://inthenyxoftime.tumblr.com/post/53702766186/sherlocks-trousers-hawkwardeye-using-the) is "restless"

The squeak of shoes on the gym should make him feel happy, but all it does is drop dread bit by bit into Iwaizumi's stomach, churning it into anger as he throws open the door and sees _exactly_ who he thought it'd be this late.

" _Oikawa!_ " Another resounding slam of ball on the court, but Oikawa actually stops and looks up, breathing heavy and face patchy.

"Oh, Iwa-chan, good timing!" To take him away in Iwaizumi's mind. "Will you get on the other side? I need a target."

There's a few things that get the former captain in this sort of mood, bouncing a new ball on his arms as he waits for Iwaizumi to get into position, and judging from the surprisingly relaxed pull of his lips it's nothing worth worry over. Iwaizumi waits a few moments more, arms crossed as he judges the hopeful eyes that widen when Oikawa looks back at him, the smile that seems to grow more and feels his face go pink too. Whatever. It's nothing harmful, from all the years he's known this guy, probably just pent up energy now that they've got no regular practice.

Oikawa's thrilled and wastes no time in smarting Iwaizumi with one of his new power serves, a tough thing to receive even when he knows it's coming. Karasuno'd been lucky. _No, not lucky,_ he thinks, letting the next whiz out past his head, _They got better. More skilled. They grew as much as we did, and Oikawa's serve is still a baby._

It'd be _terrifying_ once he could use it as well as his other jump serve.

"Thinking about university?"

"Sort of--" _Slam_ right beside Iwaizumi, the same time Oikawa lands and he catches the other wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. The setter reaches for another ball and pauses, resting his hand on the container instead. "It's nice having been scouted, and it's not like I'm going someplace I haven't played before," the college kids they'd practiced with were friendly, took to Oikawa like they were his own already, "but it'll be different being in a new gym again. A new team."

Where he's not captain, even if he's practically guaranteed to be a regular. Iwaizumi understands the feeling. It'd been the same moving from elementary to middle, from middle to high, and new places excited Oikawa like nothing else. It gave him the jitters. Boundless energy spent on running laps, on extra practice that leaves his muscles burning, on nights picking at the grass and looking at the last stars of winter as they fade into spring. Iwaizumi's positive that one day his friend's gonna get on a plane and never been seen again, moving from place to place and feet never finding any rest.

He hopes he can be there too.

"Think you'll make captain like you did here?"

"Of course." Then, a little more bashful, like Iwaizumi wouldn't say yes to anything his best friend asked of him (as long as it didn't include something against his personal code), holding the ball to his stomach and face turned away. "Can I count on you to be my vice then too?"

Iwaizumi lifts a ball, aims it, and serves it into Oikawa's chest. "Of course. Someone's gotta keep you from going too far and _actually teach_ the newbies what to do, since their captain's too much of an airhead to come down anytime soon."

"I am _not_ an airhead," Oikawa whines, rubbing the hit area and glancing at the balls. "... But I _could_ use some help in cleaning up, Iwa-chan, if you want to give a last hurrah as a vice captain."

"We're already old news," but he picks up and serves them to the other anyway. "They've probably said our last rights and everything."

Oikawa's laughter bubbles up from the other side of the net and Iwaizumi grins too, glad this mood's just from a new path laid out in front of them and not the storm clouds that would roll over the court before. He's really changed a lot since then. In a really good way, one that makes Iwaizumi glad he's been able to see Oikawa Tooru at the bottom of the stairs and makes him want to climb every step at the same pace until they've hit the top. See how the world looks from up there and wonder if there's a place even higher. There's never been any doubt in his mind that his best friend could do anything he reached for - no matter how often the guy had beat himself up about things, how a shadow had hung across him with every close loss - and whatever had happened had done wonders in opening that up.

"Not like this'll be the last time I have to lock up after you anyway." With the keys they're not supposed to have, not being on the team anymore. Yahaba was a thoughtful boy. Oikawa laughs again, short and breathy, looking thoroughly worn, yet his smile says he could run miles more than this.

Iwaizumi regards his friend fondly (eyes closed as he leans against the wall, sweat matting his hair and soaking his shirt, _that smile_ easy and relaxed like it belongs there) and shakes the door to make sure it's locked. The sound gets Oikawa moving again, jerked awake and heavy against Iwaizumi as he chooses a new place to rest. Iwaizumi scowls a little and shoves him gently. "Oi, don't fall asleep on me. You _drool._ "

"Do not," comes the mumbled reply. "And I won't sleep. Promise. Just," he breathes out, "I don't think I can keep on my feet without you, Iwa-chan. Let's go home."

And even with every bit of energy depleted (or so Oikawa _swears_ ) the other still finds enough to play with Iwaizumi's hand on the way home, innocent and just needing something to do. Iwaizumi tries to pretend he doesn't notice. Really. But he ends up sliding his palm against Oikawa's and squeezing his fidgeting hand anyway, leading the way home not for the first and _never_ for the last time.

He _does_ manage to ignore the grin in Oikawa's voice when he gets teased about holding hands in public, but only barely.


	21. snowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's childish how badly oikawa wants snow in a region that rarely sees it, but it's a perfect opportunity to warm up with each other under the excuse of wanting to stay up to see the first flecks of white

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> challenge [here](http://inthenyxoftime.tumblr.com/post/53702766186/sherlocks-trousers-hawkwardeye-using-the)! prompt for today was 'snowflake', which only offers the most genetic fluffy things i can think of so i indulged myself with some established relationship! secret established relationship.

Winter's never settled well with Iwaizumi. It's cold, he's cold, everyone seems a little more subdued with the overcast skies that promises only cold rain and no snow. Miyagi didn't get snow usually anyway, but Oikawa had sworn he smelt it this season and was waiting to see any sign. He himself doubt that. How many times had Oikawa's hunches been right off the court?

(A lot. Plenty. He should trust Oikawa about that more, and he does in a secret part that's excited for a chance of snow, even if all it does is make the roads hard to handle, delays trains, isn't even sticky enough to throw around... The bursting glee on Oikawa's face at the sight of it reminds him of the sparse falls during their childhood and, while Iwaizumi would never call himself a sentimental person - though the other would argue against it with all his heart - it does make him wish that a few flakes would float down just to get that tired look away.)

"Tonight's the night," Oikawa tells him, pressed tight against the cold wind on their way home. No amount of jackets or scarves can protect them from the biting chill that's unusual even for this time of the year, and for once Iwaizumi makes an open sound of agreement at Oikawa's prediction. If any night, tonight. "Too bad. I'd like to have _seen_ it. Remember when we'd stay up until dawn to see if we could catch the first snow, Iwa-chan? Sneaking hot chocolate from the kitchen and taking turns sleeping?"

"And _I'm_ sentimental." But Iwaizumi remembers. Oikawa's parents let them stay up later those nights as long as they promised not to keep up _too_ long, but naturally they'd gone against it every time. He's pretty sure they knew too. "You were always hard to wake up. And drooly. _And_ you were clingy."

He rubs his nose and sniffs, the cold air surely carrying the faintest wifts of snow (or is he just thinking that because of Oikawa?) and the fragrant shampoo his boyfriend loves so much. "Looks like things haven't changed much."

"That's very mean of you to say, Iwa-chan, considering every time we go to bed at training camp you have to have your own corner."

Iwaizumi doesn't feel like punching him, so he settles for slamming their hips together and laughs at Oikawa's yelp.

"You know it's true, Iwa-chan, don't get so mad just because I'm _right_." The brunet rubs his hip and presses back against Iwaizumi willingly, a sigh exhaling white past their heads. "We should do it again. The staying up thing."

 _Maybe,_ he thinks to himself and only grunts in reply.

"We'll get hot chocolate and marshmallows, those lovely quilts your grandma put together before she passed - rest her soul - and take turns watching for the snow. There won't be any moonlight, so we'll have to do something else..." Oikawa chews on his lip, thinking too hard about something he's probably going to sleep over anyway, and Iwaizumi feels himself move to press their mouths together before it registers in his mind, a soft noise startled from his lover. It's warm and slow and he doesn't really want to break, standing in the cold like this, but he does and tries to cover his red cheeks with his scarf. Slack jawed and flustered is a look at he loves on Oikawa and he relishes the sight a moment before starting to walk again.

"We'll just keep the window open and wait for it to drift in," his words muffle into the scarf and he feels the younger catch up once the spell breaks, burying his face into Iwaizumi's shoulder.

"You're unfair." Iwaizumi grins behind the fabric and glances back at the other's crimson ears, letting Oikawa lace their fingers together and knowing he's wishing there weren't gloves blocking their skin. "But that sounds nice, Iwa-chan. You can sit in my lap if you get too cold."

It's without tease, an honest offer, and he gives a gruff _thanks_ as they come to the intersection to part. He doesn't kiss Oikawa again, just drinks in the last sight of his chill reddened cheeks and nose, the lips that purse at the thought of being away for even a _second_ (if Oikawa'd been touchy before they got together, he was trice that now), and squeezes his hand gently.

"I'll come over once I've gathered all our supplies," Oikawa says softly, the wistfulness never leaving his eyes. He wants to come home with Iwaizumi _now_. But he's got chores. And to 'gather supplies', even if he's probably going to claim that he's forgotten them and they'll have to eat Iwaizumi's family out of house and home again. "Make sure you get everything settled too."

Iwaizumi hums and lets Oikawa pull away from him first, catching every glance back until the other turns the corner and he's free to go home himself, not noticing the smile stretching across his face until it's pointed out by his mom when she peeks out of the living room to greet him.

 

Oikawa's too warm, smells too nice, and is so _comfy_ to lay against. The other's hand is settled on Iwaizumi's own, thumb rubbing the back of it as Oikawa presses his nose into his scalp. It's really odd being in this situation, actually. He's used to holding rather than the other way around.

Oikawa seems to read his mind about this too, huffing breathes into the short hair and leaning back a little to kiss Iwaizumi's neck, grinning into the shiver. "It feels nice, doesn't it? All nice and warm?"

"It feels like you're ready to attack me at any moment."

"Rude, Iwa-chan." But he doesn't deny that he might, feathering kisses across Iwaizumi's skin, and it takes all his will not to lean into the touch. His breaking point is when Oikawa replaces lips for teeth and he inhales sharply, a low growl of Oikawa's name his only warning. His boyfriend hums, nuzzles the spot, and kisses apologies on it. Falsities. He's gonna do it again anyway. His voice is languid as he mouths against Iwaizumi's skin, shivering ripples across his nerves. "Come on, let's keep warm together."

"We _are_ warm," yet lets himself fall into the rhythm of Oikawa's movement against him, every skim of his fingers rippling the calm of his composure and returning the favor when he straddles Oikawa's lap, each knowing where to touch, kiss, bite - all to yield the result they wanted. Oikawa's smug grin pops open with a shuddering moan at the surprising rock of Iwaizumi's hips, covered and claimed instantly with his lips.

"You're so eager, Iwa-chan," once they've broke and the space between them feels like two different shores.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and parts the stillness, leaning in with a hiss. " _You're_ loud."

Oikawa hooks his hands smoothly at the small of Iwaizumi's back and, without missing a beat, smirks devilishly. "Like you mind."

" _I_ don't," Iwaizumi breathes truth against Oikawa's ear, who swallows hard as he barely veils a shiver. "But my parents won't like it if they're woken up."

"Then I'll stay quiet for you, Iwa-chan." It's an empty vow, because Oikawa can never stay quiet on his own, always too eager or forgetful and just _open_ with his happiness, with things that are his, that he wants to show off and let others envy. It's always been like that, and while Iwaizumi doesn't usually mind it, he really would like it if he didn't come out to his parents like this. Oikawa finds Iwaizumi's hand in the mess and heat and hooks their pinkies together, pleased by the surprised expression. "I promise. I've been practicing."

The words plunk waves and Iwaizumi kisses fire onto the hand still connected to his, eyes never leaving Oikawa's. It's like a painfully slow dance, but it's worth to see the childish amusement grow dark and heavy in hue, into the impatience that drives him on. The chilling wind from outside is forgotten with every deliberate motion, every whined complaint and beg to go faster, and Iwaizumi's got his hands digging marks into his boyfriend's flushed hips as he holds him still, a march of lips and teeth that sets everything in its path aflame.

"Iwa-- Iwa-chan," it's a different kind of gasp and Iwaizumi looks up from darkening the bruises on his thigh, curiosity slackening when he sees the familiar look of wonder beneath the splash of red across Oikawa's face. "Iwa-chan, look," he says softly, and following the gentle command he spots flakes drifting in on the cold breeze they'd never felt from the window.

Oikawa looks so at ease, even if he's hot under Iwaizumi's touch and he's so close he can feel and smell the sweat, the brunt grins down at him and strokes his burning cheek. "Hurry up, Iwa-chan, I wanna go outside and see the snow."

Iwaizumi snorts and sits up instead, trapping Oikawa against the wall with a hand as he kisses him deep and slow, shifting the blankets off them and shuddering with the other at the biting chill.

Hurry up? With Oikawa at his mercy like this?

Not a _chance_.


	22. haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's probably the best morning after oikawa's ever had

Fading in and out, Oikawa is sure of a number of things. One, he is dying. Two, there's leftover pizza and alcohol in the room. Three, there's someone very heavy and warm trapping him to the bed. And four - which is appropriate, he thinks, because _he is absolutely positive he's dying_. There's no other way to describe the disgusting taste in his mouth that won't leave until he gets a drink he's sure, the sweat matting his head and leaving his entire body sticky and gross, and the suffocating heat he can barely get a good look at. No one he knows. Mattsun didn't have this short of hair, after all, and it's softer than the head he's patting faintly.

The figure groans and lifts up, squinting right back at him. Oikawa's sure of something new: That if he's dying, this is the angel that's in charge of collecting him.

"Hello, handsome," he croaks out, and isn't the least bit offended when the stranger reels back in disgust, just laughs and stretches an arm behind his head, knocking into the wall.

After a moment, he gets a reply. "Hey."

Oikawa searches for a name to go with the swimming memory of last night and comes up empty, though it seems the other's just the same. Handsome drags himself off Oikawa and sits at the edge of the bed, rubbing his face and glancing back at him from time to time. Oikawa thinks he must like what he sees. But who wouldn't? So he stretches out a little more and tries to ignore the foreshadowing gurgle in his stomach, grinning wider and biting the bottom of his lip like he knows so many love.

It works like a charm, flushing the tan cheeks, but he's gotta admit, he's kind of offended at the following groan and words. "I can't _believe_ I fell for that."

"You're not the first, nor the last," though this doesn't happen as often as Oikawa makes it sound. He'd just had a shitty day and wanted to grind against someone. Make himself feel better. And _boy_ did that work out, he thinks as he eyes his monster mash partner's back and then his arms when he settles back, muscles tensed. He really wants to touch them. But judging from how Handsome's acting, it's not the best idea. Oikawa does try to sit up and feels himself fall twice back onto the bed. Yay.

Well, it's not his place, but from how Handsome's so comfortable it must be his. Oikawa kicks at the other slightly, just a prod to the bare butt. "Be a sweetheart and get me a drink? Maybe some advil?"

"You got off worse than I did, huh?"

"Oh, I'd say I got off _just fine_ ," he purrs back, trailing his toe up Handsome's hip bone and grinning at the jerked shudder.

" _Stay_ ," the other commands with a wavering voice and purposefully keeping turned away. Oikawa hooks his ankles together, pleased.

Yup. Even tasting death in his mouth, feeling two hundred shades of horrible and probably looking it too if he sounds like this, he's _still_ got it.

He feels a hand hesitantly skim his leg a little later and resists jerking away, peeking open an eye and wondering if he'd passed out. Handsome's sitting at the edge of the bed again, sorrowfully clothed and pushing the blanket up him slowly like he's opening a treasured gift, slow and cautious. Oikawa evens his breathing to offset his quickening heart as the dark eyes rake over him and fingers press in different spots, like he's trying to remember, and the moan shudders from his lips when Handsome skirts up his thigh, trembling at his touch.

"Yeah, I remember that," he says, voice gravelly. Oikawa keens in reply, the memory sparking back with every brush. Lips parting, tongue and teeth rolling over his skin like it was all his to own, hands in short dark hair begging for more. He flushes and reluctantly accepts the pills, drinking them down along with the rest of the water and the hands drift away.

Handsome tells him where the bathroom is and that there's clothes for him to wear since the others were - and that's _such_ a good look on him, red and sheepish - in disrepair. Or missing. Oikawa remembers parts of it, but it doesn't matter much. Not his favorite outfit anyway.

"What's your name?" Oikawa finally asks, not being able to find it anywhere the guy lets him look. He gets a funny look for it (which isn't strange, what fling asks for names?) but he swears that he might know this guy from someplace. A name's necessary. _Especially_ if Handsome's gonna be stealing glances at him until he leaves.

"It's Iwaizumi."

Iwaizumi. He tilts his head, kicking his feet and leaning back on the bed he's left only to shower and clothe. "I feel like I know you."

"Well, you'd _better_. You weren't that gentle."

Oikawa splutters a little but his heart catches when Iwaizumi laughs, shoulder against the doorway and arms crossed. He thinks he might be in love. Which is _so bad_ , something he'll never live down if it gets out, but he only feels warm when he finds himself in front of Iwaizumi and kissing him off guard, arms circling the shorter's neck as he feels hands resting at the small of back. It's gentle this time. Slow and reserved for a step above flings.

"Oikawa," he breathes his name against the other's lips, teasingly close and moving back when Iwaizumi tries to get at him again. "That's my name."

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi repeats, then says it again. Oikawa thinks it's dangerous, but he likes the way it sounds out of Iwaizumi's mouth. "You live down the hall."

Ah.

Is that where he knows him from.

They've probably passed each other on the stairwell or something, courteous nods from one person to the next, but Oikawa's memory clicks to the day he'd gotten locked outside of his apartment and someone had picked it for him. That'd definitely been Iwaizumi. He recognizes the voice now. Holy shit, he banged the guy he'd given one glance at over his phone.

He has superb taste, he decides, and pulls a wary Iwaizumi back inside with a grin. "You know, I never properly thanked you for unlocking my door. And now that I remember-- Well, I'm not the kind of guy to let a good thing escape."

"Then you'd-- You'd better make it fast," Iwaizumi stumbles even as direct as he is, and Oikawa laughs as he pushes the door closed and drops to his knees, grinning up at him.

"That all depends on _you_ , hotshot, but I don't remember you being much of quickie last night~."

There's no excuses now, not a single drop of alcohol left in their systems, and Oikawa remembers every sound strangled from Iwaizumi's throat like a dream come true. Love at first sight or not, it was hot to see the other struggling not to falter, to buckle under his practiced ease, and he thinks that if it's like this _all_ the time a friends with benefits arrangement might _definitely_ be necessary.


	23. flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's probably the most luck iwaizumi's ever had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're all gonna get a special treat of two stories in one day today ~~because i ended up not doing one yesterday~~ so look forward to the one later too!! this is a prequel to the other day's.

It wasn't attraction at first sight. Iwaizumi noticed him as much as the other did, mind too busy thinking about what dinner he'd have to scrape together or what a day had been, but with every passing, every bump and half-hearted _excuse me_ , he began to notice Oikawa more and more - and not just the man himself, but little habits too.

He tended to play with his hair no matter what kind of day he had, but it was sharp tugs and bitten lips when he was worried, no playing when he was angry, and when he was happy or had a good day there was always a soft hum accompanying it. More than once Iwaizumi'd been tempted to ask about the song - sometimes he knew it, sometimes he didn't - just to make conversation, but the chances passed him with a cheerful wave.

Sometimes Oikawa would hang outside the doors, eyes looking into the distance of the rest of the city. Iwaizumi's not sure what he thinks about at times like these. He's never asked, never approached even if it would be a _perfect_ time to get to know the other. It just felt like he shouldn't, like there was a barrier between them. Other occupants seemed to have the same idea, just moving around him in the mornings and evenings, and Iwaizumi's sure he's not the only one who's given Oikawa more than a second glance.

The way he dressed never varied that much - it was professional but stylish, the sort of sharpness you'd expect from someone who was used to keeping up with the latest trends, though Iwaizumi could count on both hands how many times he'd seen Oikawa with something lax and tatty on too. A comfort. Mostly seen in the summer heat and (thankfully) when he's been locked out of his own unit.

"Stupid thing-- _Fuck_ ," Oikawa hisses, pulling at his bangs short and sharp. Bad day, Iwaizumi notes. There'd probably be some city watching later then. The man sighs and chews on his lip, brows drawn together - worry.

And it's then that he realizes that this is _his chance_. Iwaizumi's heart thuds hard against his chest as he clears his throat, Oikawa's eyes flicking up to see who it was before casting back down to his phone. His voice comes out a little loud, a nervousness he hasn't felt since high school, and it makes his neighbor jump. "I could pick the lock for you."

"... Would you? It's driving me crazy," Oikawa's voice just sets Iwaizumi up more and more for a failing love life, "but it's my own fault." His mouth quirks up, glancing at him again and Iwaizumi's mouth goes dry. "I left my keys inside."

"It's no problem."

It's just the sound of the jiggling lock as Iwaizumi sets to work, having gotten two paper clips from his own place and twisting them like he learned in college, but he couldn't be less aware of what he was doing with Oikawa at his side. He wants to speak up and make conversation, but the other seems too focused on his phone, hair twirling to a minimum and lip pushed out in thought. Maybe bored. Iwaizumi keeps glancing at him and knows he's got it bad when even Oikawa's _bored_ expression is too handsome for this good world.

What should be a minute or two of work is stretched into four or five, but he hears it click and feels it falter as he twists the knob and pushes in. Oikawa gives him another grin that rolls Iwaizumi's stomach and then looks back down at his phone as he passes the threshold. "Thanks."

Iwaizumi can only give a half hearted grunt in reply before the door clicks quietly and he's left alone again.

With a new determination and a free weekend, he finds himself following Oikawa to a club down the street and ordering something light, watching the man chat up whoever sat beside him and paid for his drink. And a _lot_ of people do, Iwaizumi's growing envy notes. He's not the only one to have noticed how gorgeous Oikawa is - he never thought he was - or how his grin seems to light up the entire place itself, how his laughter made it wider and pushed the heaviness of loneliness off the shoulders of his companions. With each new partner Iwaizumi's sure Oikawa's going to walk out and it'd be another face to add to the list, but each time he shakes his head and says he'd like to spend more time here instead.

Clubs are not his favorite place by far, but the more he drinks and watches Oikawa's face reflect different colors, shoulders slack and hands moving as he talks, the more Iwaizumi doesn't care. It's when Oikawa's obviously had too much to drink that courage pushes him forward and take a seat beside the other, bumping lightly against him. Oikawa turns and, apparently not annoyed with the jarred landing, immediately chats him up.

"Well, don't _you_ look like you've had one too many." It's a new voice, lilting and loose, and Iwaizumi takes a moment to realize it's flirty. Oikawa leans on a hand, smile never leaving his face, and he looks Iwaizumi up and down. Bites his bottom lip and Iwaizumi has never felt himself fall faster into someone else's rhythm. "That makes two of us, but I could go for one more."

"Uh, sure," he stumbles out, paying for two more drinks and finding himself at the center of Oikawa's attention, the conversation easy and drawn out bit by bit.

What must be half an hour feels like all night before there's a hand in his and laughter in front of him, two drunks making their way home because, as Oikawa claims, "I just can't let you walk alone in such a sorry state!"

Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa remembers him. He realizes he doesn't care the moment Oikawa stops him under a streetlight and kisses him, as intoxicating as the alcohol they'd had minutes before, and he groans when they're back to walking. It's definitely a faster pace. He can feel it in every stumble of his feet and the autumn air biting his cheeks. The next time Oikawa says something - he doesn't remember what it is - he howls with laughter too, caught up in the rush of an overwhelming amount of excitement and the warmth of their hands clasped together.

The energy only mounts further when he realizes that for all his ease of conversation and seemingly whimsical existence, Oikawa is a fierce hunter that traps him against his own door, hands already working at Iwaizumi's belt and teeth pinching into his neck. Iwaizumi's trembling by the time he slams the door open, Oikawa's name falling from his mouth in a desperate attempt for _something_ , and the other man's laughter heats up the chilly apartment as they land on different surfaces, kissing and barely any air between them, until Iwaizumi finally drags Oikawa onto the bed and becomes enamored in the curl of his smirk and impatient in the slow way Oikawa moves against him, teasing and finding places even _Iwaizumi_ hadn't realized were so sensitive to the gentle brush of knuckles.

"Ever bottomed before?" Oikawa asks him, leering from between Iwaizumi's trembling legs and licking his lips.

"Once or twice." It's not a _horrible_ experience, but honestly Iwaizumi doesn't care either way. What feels good feels good. And he's not sure he's sober enough to not fuck up anyway. "It doesn't matter to me."

Oikawa's eyes crinkle at the edge and he crawls up to kiss him, stopping close enough that the alcohol laden breath is hot against his lips. "I'll make it matter."

Iwaizumi shudders and thinks he just might.


	24. formal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's years since the first flight, years since either of them admitted their feelings, years since they kissed under the cherry blossoms-- most importantly, it's been years that they were first inseparable and it stays unto forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the day ends when i sleep. a long awaited (to me) wedding tribute to by far my favorite story i've done, [comfortable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2680892)

"And you're sure we can both wear suits."

"Yeah, Assikawa, I'm _sure_."

Oikawa's nose turns up at the name and Iwaizumi smirks at him from the mirror, trying to straighten his tie again. His boyfriend -- fiance, maybe, to be husband -- sighs and comes over, fixing it for him with a fond smile.

"You still can't do your own ties, Iwa-chan? We've been on the road for _years_ and I've always had to do it for you." There's laughter hiding in his scolding tone and Iwaizumi feels a fuzzy affection spreading across him, wrapping his arms around Oikawa's middle and smiling softly.

"Well, maybe I just like having you do it for me."

Oikawa tightens it abruptly and loosens it, pretending he doesn't hear Iwaizumi coughing. "Don't give me that. I'm not taking any more of your flirts until we're done with this."

"Then I've got permission to step on your feet for every one of yours, right?"

"Nope. Only I can flirt with you, Iwa-chan." Oikawa's cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red and Iwaizumi thinks of the camera stuck in its case across the room. "When you do it, I get all kinds of flutters. You're too earnest about it. Even when you fumble the words."

He's been getting better about not fumbling and he commends himself for ducking close to Oikawa's ear before the other realizes he's blushing too, breathing softly into it. "I wanna take a picture of you."

"Mood ruiner," he murmurs back, pecking Iwaizumi on the cheek and slipping out of his arms to check both of them in the mirror one last time. "Are you upset that you're not gonna be the one taking pictures, Iwa-chan?"

"Who says I'm not?"

Oikawa stares pointedly at him, reminding the photographer of his mother, but sighs and shrugs. "You would. But for every picture you take, there's one less kiss waiting for you at the end~."

Iwaizumi frowns and the other laughs, turning away.

"Let them do their job, Iwa-chan. You can complain later."

 

It's just a small thing in a foreign land - what Oikawa wouldn't have given for it to be in Japan, dressed in his father's wedding clothes and in the heat of summer with the cicadas as their witnesses - but it's settled, matching silver bands that he keeps staring at long after they've gotten back to their hotel room. It's still a little unbelievable. And at the same time, he can't stop grinning, pressing it into a pillow of the queen sized bed and muffling his laughter in it. Iwaizumi's busy taking a shower after Oikawa had gotten jitters and shoved him, complaining about how bad his new husband smelled after sweating in the rental tux.

It's not like it'd be the first time they had sex or anything, but Oikawa just _knows_ Iwaizumi's going to try something romantic and he's going to end up a flustered mess. That's _so_ not how he wants to start their marriage - their new life, their vows swearing into forever. Oikawa groans in the memory of it and jumps when he hears the shower turn off, knowing he's only got a few minutes before Iwaizumi's done drying.

He breathes in and out a few times, checks himself in the vanity's mirror, and ends up sprawling back on the bed once the few minutes have passed.

Still nothing. Oikawa frowns and _carefully_ steps towards the door, gasping when it swings open and Iwaizumi grabs him in a familiar hold, dancing through the first stumbles.

"Iwa-chan, _no_ , stop!" But Iwaizumi doesn't heed and Oikawa doesn't force it, just bites his lip to keep from laughing. He clears throat and keeps pace, peppering his husband's reddening cheeks with kisses as he teases. "This is because we didn't get to have a dance like they said we would, huh."

"I was looking forward to stomping on your feet."

"Meanie."

It slows to a stop, each kiss kindling a warmth deep inside Oikawa's belly. Never inflaming it - Iwaizumi's good at controlling this fire - but it never dies, just grows until he feels out of breath, chest tight and back pressed against the bed. Iwaizumi's eyes settle on him and it makes Oikawa feel like he's a few years younger, ducking away into the pillow's soft embrace.

"You're an embarrassment," he muffles into it, and tacks on after a moment, "Hajime."

It's weird. It's not a name he's said since the first weeks of childhood friendship, even if he's always rolled it across his tongue in front of mirrors in proud declarations of love. _It's weird, but it's not bad_ , he thinks as it sinks in and Iwaizumi's face is a mixture of arousal from before and a new embarrassment.

" _Tooru_ ," he taunts back, and Oikawa tries to suffocate himself. Iwaizumi _knows_ that's a guaranteed way to fluster him and he _hates_ it. "What's wrong, _Tooru_?"

A whine. He feels Iwaizumi's weight pressing onto his back, warm and as constant as the man himself, and lays his cheek against the pillow instead, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "... You're unfair."

"You married into this."

They stare at each other like this for a while, matching cheeks and regrets, and Oikawa pretends that he doesn't see Iwaizumi move for his camera, grinning despite himself at the familiar _click_ and twisting onto his back for some better shots.

"You're such a camera hog," but Iwaizumi's not really complaining, the familiar clicks filling the air and Oikawa's heart stuttering as his husband flutters fingers against his chest, unbuttoning the dress shirt with one hand and watching him through the lens.

"It's not just the camera that loves me, darling husband of mine." It's got its intended effect, Iwaizumi's ears darkening, and Oikawa decides to finish it. "You do too."

The photographer sighs, pressing the camera into the bed as he leans down to kiss Oikawa. "I don't see how. You're a _horrible_ person."

"With various levels of good qualities," between kisses as he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi's shoulders, "including but not limited to my marvelous personality, my super cute face, and last but not least how _forgiving_ I am."

Iwaizumi snorts, nuzzling into him and softly recounting just _why_ he married Oikawa, each new (always there) reason sending him into a fit of nervous giggles. He knew something like this would happen. For all his mishaps and trouble with eloquence, the genuineness of Iwaizumi's words always struck him down to the bone and made him fall further. Oikawa resigns himself to a life of small gestures and needed words, not always kind and not always few; to a life filled with constants and warmth, sometimes achingly searing and others kindling affection deep in him; to a life that includes his one and only best friend, love, and _husband_ (it's a thought that makes him swallow hard and it's difficult to look the other in the eye, just like how _boyfriend_ was), all of which include Iwaizumi Hajime.

And camera hog or not, Iwaizumi wouldn't want to have anyone else occupying his lens.


	25. companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oikawa's an AI and iwaizumi is a busy grad student

"Iwa-chan~, I did as you requested and arranged every appointment, test, and due date you have into a list~." Iwaizumi barely looks up from his paper as he murmurs his thanks, but the AI opens it in front of him and he jerks away in surprise. He rolls his eyes and scroll through it, satisfied with the list-- when something catches his eye.

"Oikawa, what the _hell_ is this?" He jabs his finger at a line that reads _Day off ♥_ and Oikawa sits at the edge of his task bar, disarmingly tiny and cute.

" _Well~_ ," he drawls, kicking his feet, "you're just so busy, so I thought I'd schedule in something for you~. Maybe we could go to the park or something together."

Iwaizumi rubs his forehead and resists the growing itch to just slump on his desk and wonder _why_ he was gifted with such an unreasonable AI, the creator's famous slogan pushing to the front of his mind: _Artificial Intelligence doesn't mean Artificial Feelings._

It's supposed to be a kind of caretaker, lover, friend, _whatever_ you want it to be for the lonely or overworked soul, and he curses Yahaba for suggesting he get one in the first place-- No, damn _Matsukawa_ for going through with it. All Iwaizumi had wanted was someone to keep up with his affairs while he was busy or passed out, not to pester him about things like walks and movies. Sometimes it's nice. He enjoys the breaks and talking to Oikawa, his own AI.

Other times, when he's got a report due by tonight and he's struggling to get the last sources, it's a damn _pain_.

"We'll see how the rest of the week feels and decide then," he drones to the AI and ignores the pouty emoji that pops up beside the AI's head. The grad student switches back to his paper with a wave of his hand and glances down at the other. "Can you help me out here?"

Oikawa walks across the page, reads it, editing as he goes (because it's stupid, but an AI's got a better handle on flow and presentation than he ever will), and Iwaizumi settles back to watch. Within minutes there's a growing list of relevant sources - most of which he's already looked through and deemed useless, ones that have the same information - and they're swiftly cut down until a handful remains.

"Some of these were reaaaallly hard to get, Iwa-chan, I'm tired!" The AI flops dramatically backwards onto the task bar, puffs of stylized smoke coming out from beneath him.

"Yeah? Where'd you get them?" They were really good, nothing he'd seen before, almost official.

"The city's archives."

He pauses, slowly looking down at the bored AI. "... You mean the ones under lock and key."

Oikawa nods, conjuring a ball out of nowhere and bouncing it high with his wrists, then his fingers as he sets it. It'd be a personal touch - Iwaizumi had always loved volleyball, played it for years and still did from time to time - and it makes his mood a tiny bit better. This still sucks though. Majorly. _Majorly_ , because--

" _Don't hack into the mainframe just for my reports, dumbass!_ "

"Kyaa! Iwa-chan, you're so scary! They were so easy to get too, they were just _begging_ to be stolen!" Oikawa frowns up at him, hands on his hips, and shakes his head. "But if it displeases you, I'll delete these and find you others... Though it'll just be what you already have."

Iwaizumi pushes back in his chair with a groan, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the time. Damn, it's been a while since he had food. He grabs his phone and plugs it into the computer, ignoring Oikawa's surprise. "Get in. I'm hungry and you can look for different sources on the way. It doesn't have to be the exact relevancy, just anything to uphold my argument."

"Yessir!" The small thing salutes him and winks, blinking off one screen and onto the other. He's entirely at home on Iwaizumi's phone, playing with the apps he'd gotten the human to download for him, and Iwaizumi's smile tinges on fond before he slides it into his pocket, fitting a piece to his ear to still hear the AI.

"Don't just sit there and play around the whole time, Oikawa. It's due at midnight."

"I know~! I'm just trying to find something for us to listen to together." Oikawa hums in the meantime, the radio slowly covering the noise as the AI turns it up. It's a good station. Iwaizumi gives him silent props and hums along, singing snatches of the songs during their walk down.

Oikawa's voice interrupts the radio to inform him of various sales on the streets they're walking sparingly - clothes, games, groceries - and asks about points of the paper he's doing to narrow his search, track softening in the background and coming back to the front when he's done. Honestly, Iwaizumi's kind of thankful that Matsukawa got him this. Maybe not this model in particular - Oikawa was energetic and sweet at his best, but the AI seemed to have mood swings where he'd prank Iwaizumi and then get upset when he was scolded for it - but it _is_ nice to have someone to talk to and work with like this.

The slogan of artificial feelings still bugs Iwaizumi though. Of course they'd be - they're just programs, all they do is become used to certain commands and attitudes based on observation or whatever. Emotions and feelings are human things.

"Iwa-chan~!" Oikawa's nasally voice stops his thoughts, too peppy and energetic for the heavy song playing behind it. "There's a good deal on the special at the ramen shop up ahead, so let's go there for dinner."

 

There's plenty of people with just their phone for company, Iwaizumi reasons with himself as he tucks into a booth and props Oikawa up across from him. Plenty. It was normal. Just a quick scan around the shop proves him wrong though, groups of people chattering together and drinking. He slides back in his seat a little and gives his order a waitress comes by, left to brood over his own beer.

"Is something wrong?" Iwaizumi jumps a bit, forgetting he still has the earpiece in and glancing at his phone. Oikawa's looking up at him, laying his cheek on his arms in full sprite form. He's said to be one of the most handsome models and even objectively Iwaizumi can agree, no matter how annoying the AI can be at times.

"Nah. Just thinking."

Oikawa stares at him, maybe processing the one and way it's said, before he lifts his head and leans on his hand instead. "You shouldn't think so much, Iwa-chan, you'll hurt yourself."

Iwaizumi scowls at him, pushing at his cheek with a finger and it's not real, AI are just data and management partners, but for a moment he swears it's like he's actually touching Oikawa. Just the heat from his phone though. Oikawa rubs his cheeks and grins, resuming his position.

"Are you thinking about how looonely you are? There's plenty of singles here, Iwa-chan, and I can _easily_ set you up for any dating sites--"

"Don't you _dare_. I don't want any more junk mail or anything like that." He prods the screen again, chugging back some of his beer with a scolding frown. "I don't have time anyway. Maybe after I get my degree."

Oikawa boos him and quiets down when his ramen comes, watching Iwaizumi blow at it before that first satisfying slurp. "... Iwa-chan, what's it like to eat? And feel full."

"... That's an odd question. Don't you have it in your database?"

"Well," the AI starts, lacing his fingers and resting his chin on him. "Kind of. When you're full, your stomach has a sort of odd feeling to it, like a pressure. That pressure is a warning not to eat anymore. Those who don't listen are racked with pain in their lower abdomen ranging from mild discomfort to sharp pangs."

It's really easy to tell that Oikawa's not just someone he's video chatting with when he talks like that, the hint of monotonous repeating what his database includes at the edge of his curiosity. Iwaizumi picks up a piece of tofu between his chopsticks and waves it, watching how Oikawa's eyes follow it even off screen, before popping it into his mouth with a wince.

"-- So why do you wanna know?"

"Just thinking." Mimicking or mocking him. He can't tell which, but the AI averts his eyes down and rubs at the bottom of the screen. Maybe at a table he's imagined for himself or whatever. "... I was also thinking about how nice it would be if we could actually be around each other, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi stares at him, tilting his head slightly as he eats. They were already around each other. As much as an AI and a human could be, anyway.

Oikawa sees his expression and laughs, dismissing it with a wave. "Nevermind, nevermind~. More importantly, Iwa-chan, I found out there's some new games for download! Can I get them? One of them's this cute pet simulator. I could have a hamster!"

"Sure, whatever. Do what you'd like." It's not like it'd be real, leaving pellets and junk everywhere. "Got any more sources?"

"Yup. I emailed them all back to your computer with summaries of the information inside so you can pick and choose what'll fit your point best."

... Having an AI really was nice. Iwaizumi nods his thanks and lets his eyes wander, flicking back to his phone every now and then to make sure Oikawa wasn't getting into any trouble. He'd caught him sending an email or text to people more than once and that was _not_ something he wanted to deal with tonight.

"Hey, Iwa-chan?" Another interruption? Iwaizumi glances back at Oikawa, turning his full attention when he sees the AI's new additions of mouse ears and a thin tail behind him. What the hell. "Do you think programs can get lonely?"

"-- Huh?"

"Do you think," each word quiet but pronounced, "that programs can get lonely?"

Programs, like Oikawa. AI. _Artificial Intelligence doesn't mean Artificial Feelings,_ he remembers printed clearly on every board on the way. He watches the tail twist into knots a normal one couldn't and Oikawa pulls it loose again, waiting for an answer. Could they get lonely... They'd know the base definition of the word, but could they feel it the same way someone who was real would.

This is the kind of topic he'd never thought he'd be having with his AI, much less over dinner. And in public. Yahaba _had_ brought it up once, though Iwaizumi had pretty much tuned it out once it started to get too meta for his tastes. They were just collections of data, he reasons to himself for the second time of the night. They know a lot, but _feeling_ is strictly human.

Right?

"What brought this up?" He asks instead, meal forgotten. Oikawa takes his tail and wraps it around his hand a few times, like he's nervous or something. Did AI have nervous tics? Tells? Things like that? Just how much thought was put into these things?

"When you're gone-- Like, during a test or when you're sleeping, I'm pretty much alone."

"Why don't you just put yourself on standby?" What was standby for AI anyway? Was it like sleep? Or a trance?

"Because I don't want to." Oikawa twists the tail tighter and then drops it, letting it wave in front of Iwaizumi as he turns away. The AI definitely sounds kind of upset and he wonders just how many different tones and lines someone recorded. Actually, how did they program all of this in the first place? "It gets too quiet when I can't talk to you so I try listening to music or playing games, but nothing works. It's only when I get to wake you up or see you again that I... I feel re-energized. I don't feel as good when I'm not around you."

It sounds an awful like having a crush on someone to Iwaizumi, but he flushes the idea right down the drain. AI _feeling_ is one thing. Them having _crushes_ is an entirely different one. Yahaba would probably be interested in talking about it though, and he makes a mental note.

Oikawa turns back to look at him warily in the silence and Iwaizumi stares right back, chopsticks lifted in the air. What's he want him to say? That he's got an answer to whatever-- whatever _defect_ he's experiencing? Iwaizumi slurps his noodles up and shrugs, thinking about the odd question that'd start this.

"I... guess a program could be lonely. I don't really get all that junk," he misses the way Oikawa flinches, "but I guess so. I wouldn't think too hard on it though."

 _You're just a program_ goes unsaid, because even thinking it twists Iwaizumi's stomach in a bad way. Oikawa might be a program, might be an AI he accepted to help with managing his time and affairs, but he's someone that Iwaizumi talks a lot, has gotten just as accustomed to, a constant voice in his ear and life. He might've been _just_ a program once upon a time, but having him for a little under a year now has Iwaizumi fostering affection for the AI. Admitting it or not, Oikawa _is_ his friend.

... Damn, maybe he _did_ need a dating site.

Oikawa hums, long and soft, and settles for playing his new game. Ah, so _that's_ where the mouse thing came from. Iwaizumi finishes his ramen and plucks the phone up, wondering briefly if AI could get motion sickness as he slides it back into his pocket. Oikawa's already paid for it all out of Iwaizumi's bank, a feature he's infinitely thankful for in his busy life, and he heads out thinking about his paper.

It's very quiet on the way home.


	26. move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> move (mo͞ov) _v._
> 
> to change or cause to change from one state, opinion, sphere, or activity to another

"I don't believe you."

"How can you not?! I'm sitting right here, _telling you the truth_ , and you don't believe me."

Iwaizumi stares straight at him, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "Fine. Say I believe you. What then?"

"Then..." Oikawa kicks his feet, hates the way his heels just go _through_ the bed instead of hitting it solidly, hates how he floats _just above_ the sheets he wants to feel beneath him, and shrugs. "Then you'll help me, won't you? I mean, it can't be _that_ hard."

"You're asking me to help you find true love," the other replies slowly, pacing his room. "And you're _positive_ that's what's gonna help you move on."

The ghost nods, gliding lightly across Iwaizumi's floor until they're standing about a foot apart. He tries to settle himself down without sinking through but ends up floating just above (always _just above_ ).

"... Why are you haunting _me_ anyway, huh?"

A good question. A perfectly fine question. "Because it's not _you_ I'm haunting, it's the _house_. You're just the first person that's moved in here that's been able to see me."

"Lucky me," Iwaizumi sighs as he turns away to his desk, plopping into the chair and hunching over a book. "Well, whatever. Don't bother me and I'll see what I can do."

There's a lot of things Oikawa's felt since he died - anger, hurt, shame to name a few - but it's the first time in a long, long time that he's felt hope swelling and relief washing over him. He grins wide and experimentally passes a hand through Iwaizumi's shoulder, howling at the genuine shudder and dodging the pencil chucked at him. It's been a long, long time since he had someone he might call a friend too, or at least a partner, and he decides to cherish what time he's got left to the fullest.

Something tells him that Iwaizumi's going to be the one to help him find it.

 

"So what's your type?"

Oikawa shrugs, pretending he can feel the breeze that's wafting the curtains of Iwaizumi's window and the afternoon sun beaming in. "I never really found one. I _did_ like a lot of people," he hears the now familiar squeak of the chair as Iwaizumi turns to listen, "but I'd never say any of them were someone I'd loved."

He pauses, looking back at Iwaizumi with a faint grin. "Truly loved. Call me a romantic, but there _is_ a difference."

"I don't think there's _that_ much on one though. What's different about finding someone you'd marry and true love?"

Oikawa stares at him, barely touching the window sill as he turns and "leans" on it, and mimics his squint. What's different? Wasn't it obvious? Iwaizumi looks like he's genuinely trying to understand and help though, propping up his chin with his fist and holding his gaze. Earnest. That's the word that comes to mind and he turns back out the window, looking farther away at the horizon.

"... I guess with marriage, you become accustomed to them. You learn what they're like behind closed doors, you tolerate their bad sides, things like that. You can go a few days without them. It might even be a nice break. But with true love..." The wind seems to answer his call and the curtains flair beside him, his longing to feel the breeze rushing through him rising. He feels like he's going to cry, but there's no wetness on his cheeks. No stinging in his eyes, no tightness in his throat, nothing. "With true love, it's more like if you had to leave them at all, for any second longer than a day, then your heart would collapse in on itself, that every light would go out and cast you into darkness."

There's silence behind him but he doesn't look back this time, just smiles into the wind and wishes he could feel the tiredness he knows would be there. They're not his words in the first place. They're his mom's, when he'd asked just the same to her and became enamored with the answer. True love. What a silly notion, yet it's keeping him firmly rooted in his childhood home.

"Are you sure you're gonna know it when you feel it?"

When he was alive he might've tensed and brushed off the question with a joke, but now he just stares ahead and wonders it himself.

 

"It's pretty hard to find true love if you're stuck here, huh."

"I guess so." A lull. "Iwa-chan, are you really this bad at history?"

"I'm gonna nail an ofuda to my door if you bother me again."

 

Iwaizumi's pretty handsome, he guesses. In that set jaw kind of way. He might strangle his sheets like he's in the middle of a life or death battle, but the lines of the day smooth away and reveal a new kind of Iwa-chan to him, relaxed and open, with lips parted as soft breath moves between them evenly. Oikawa hangs above him, far enough that even when he drops his arm into the space between them there's a few inches under his fingertips, and watches as the shadows slowly move across him, as new streams of light take their place with the dawning of the sun. The soft glow of morning is odd when paired Iwaizumi, whose wariness never seems to give in, and Oikawa shoots up when the eyes crack open, a yawn escaping the man beneath him.

Now hiding in the attic, Oikawa sees his hands trembling and wonders _why_.

 

It's not the end of it. He's started to hang out downstairs during the night and morning, wandering the halls and small garden Iwaizumi's kind but stern mother had started to grow. Akito, the shiba inu the family had adopted a month ago, keeps him occupied with play too, resting beside him when Oikawa's tired him out. _Anything_ to keep his mind off the teen sleeping in what used to be his room.

Iwaizumi notices once it becomes less of a 'night only' thing and taints their days as well, Oikawa keeping his face firmly to the window and never looking over his shoulder to make some snide remark. Oikawa keeps waiting for the question too. But it doesn't come.

_Maybe he's feeling relieved._ The moment the thought crosses his mind Oikawa feels memories of shame and bitterness swelling up, glares at Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye, and _harrumphs_ so loud the other jumps and glares back at him.

"What?"

It's not the question Oikawa wants, so he sighs and turns back to watching the birds, relapsing into the person he was when he as alive as easily as slipping on an old pair of shoes. "Nothing, Iwa-chan."

If only it was.

 

"If you could have one thing in the world, anything at all, what would it be, Iwa-chan?"

"Where the hell did that come from?" A magazine page flips. "... Guess it'd be a guaranteed income."

Oikawa laughs and can't stop, but there's no pain in his sides, no gasping for air, and for that he's almost thankful that he's dead. He breathes out, wiping his eyes by old habits gone by, and sends a teasing grin back at Iwaizumi. "Practical, Iwa-chan. I like that about you."

He turns from the confused look on his friend's face (because he's sure they're friends by this point) and smiles into the sun he can't feel.

 

"I don't want to come to terms with it," he tells Akito they play under the stars. The shiba tilts his head and whines. Oikawa brushes the top of his fur in a mockery of petting him, falling back against the earth and wonder what's keeping him from simply sinking here, too. "... I don't want to tell him either, Aki-chan, but I think Iwa-chan's helped more than he's meant to."

Akito lays his muzzle close to Oikawa's arm as if to comfort him and the spirits laughs, closing his eyes.

"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it Aki-chan?"

 

Oikawa hasn't felt so nervous since the first time someone new moved into his house a few months after he'd fallen sick and quickly declined, so scared since he'd overheard the doctor tell his family he was falling faster than first anticipated. It's an entirely different situation, but the reason is the same: He doesn't want to leave, not yet.

Trying to hate Iwaizumi hadn't worked. Everything about the other gave him a case of phantom butterflies, not just in his stomach but in every inch of his body. His hands flutter about Iwaizumi's things, ever gliding and not stopping but once or twice, and the restless snaps at Iwaizumi's patience more than once. But Oikawa can't say, the words stuck in his throat for fear of what comes afterwards, so he just laughs it off and titters by the window until he can't stand staying in one place anymore. He wants to be close to Iwaizumi but _every time he is_ he feels the phrase climb into his mind and wait for him to slip up.

Oikawa watches Iwaizumi sleep and tells him then instead, with no ears to listen nor commitment to it, and just saying the words makes him so happy he tires to lay with Iwaizumi -- only to recoil when the other shudders involuntarily.

_It'd never work out,_ he reminds himself gently, standing by the window once more.


	27. silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not all that glitters is gold

"We'll break through this time, Iwa-chan." Oikawa presses into his shoulders, a comforting warmth that rests against him and expects him to support like always. "They won't win again. I have faith in you."

Because Iwaizumi's never been wrong, has always been right since they day they first played together, but now he's unsure and can't speak the words he knows Oikawa wants to hear. A confirmation. An _of course, moron_ , as certain of the future outcome as it'd always been. Iwaizumi's fists tighten on his knees and he sees Oikawa's pale hands rest on his, slackening the grip as he presses their fingers together. Tan, light, tan, light.

"Iwa-chan," soft and coaxing, and the hand leaves his just for a moment as Oikawa kneels between his legs. Iwaizumi's aware of the calloused hands pressing into his cheeks and he tries to scowl, though from the setter's strained expression it just looks hilarious. "You look like a bulldog, Iwa-chan. Save that face for scaring the opponents, hmm?"

"So what do you want me to do? Pretend like I'm gonna hit it 100% of the time?" Iwaizumi laughs skeptically, shaking his head and peeling Oikawa's hands from it. Squeezes them instead, because it's the best way to communicate his fear and doubt and Oikawa knows that. "I can't do that, Oikawa."

"You can't." Iwaizumi knows that, but it still stings to hear it said so certainly. "You can't guarantee it hit it _through_ 100% of the time, but you _will_ hit it regardless. So one of those times _will_ make it through and we _will_ get a point."

Oikawa's eyes light up in that way he's familiar with by now, a fire of competitiveness that draws him in before he realizes it, and his grin speaks as loudly as his words do. "I'm going to find you the best spot and you're going to hit it. We'll steal victory right from under them and _they'll_ be watching us on TV."

_**We'll** be the ones going to the Olympics this year,_ Iwaizumi thinks before he realizes the thought's even crossed his mind. _**They'll** be the ones watching our backs._

Oikawa wriggles one of his hands out and presses it against the back of Iwaizumi's, squeezing tight. "You understand, don't you?""

"Yeah, I got it. I'm just pissed a moron like _you_ had to tell me." He pinches one of Oikawa's cheeks and grins at the protesting whine, a new restlessness in his bones as he thinks about tomorrow and all it holds. Oikawa rubs his cheek with a pout, laying against Iwaizumi's legs with a sigh.

"I'm glad. It's really tough to sleep when you're worse than usual, full of silly thoughts making you toss and turn and kick me in your sleep."

"I'll kick you anyway." And he does lightly, enough to push Oikawa onto his back. The other makes a face at him - it clears says _Rude, Iwa-chan_ from years of seeing it - and stretches out, grinning back at him.

"That's my Iwa-chan," he coos, screaming when Iwaizumi grabs a pillow and beats him with it. They're two grown men with the end of a round robin tournament to decide the Olympic team tomorrow and more than ever Iwaizumi feels ready for it, straddling his best friend with pained sides and a noise complaint for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll admit.
> 
> i have no idea how they choose teams in japan for the olympics.
> 
> but i saw after some digging that they usually do round robin stuff like the high school nationals and such so i figured they probably did the same


	28. prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> old things stay the same, but the addition of new ones to their relationship really only served to spice shit up
> 
> even if it's something as simple as a piercing or a tattoo

Oikawa can say he's a lot of things - charming, handsome, pretty damn perfect in every way - but he feels like a jittering high school girl with a crush as he tries to fix up his apartment before Iwaizumi gets there. It'll be the first time they see each other in _months_ and he needs everything to be clean and tidy and _perfect_ \--

Not that Iwaizumi would care, might give it a glance over, but he'll be too tired from the train to do much but want to take a nap. Oikawa grins fondly at the thought and flexes his hands, forcing himself to breathe out. Not that much has changed since they last saw each other. He's got a new piercing in his ear which he's dying to show off, but nothing too big. New clothes, new things cluttering the home he's made for himself, new sheets all cleaned for a night twisting together in them. Whoo. Okay.

He still drops the plate he'd been washing last minute when there's a familiar short knock at the door, swearing loudly as he juggles between trying to sound _perfectly fine_ when he calls out "In a minute!" and trying not to cut himself as he picks up the pieces. It feels a little like his life. A pretty porcelain dish cracked and ruined by a startling noise from Iwaizumi. Oikawa sighs and ends up bandaging his hand up before he's done cleaning up, hiding it behind him when he opens the door and feels the world light up at the sight of Iwaizumi, all tired eyes and small smiles reserved for just him.

"You look like a mess," Oikawa says as affection overcomes in and he barely lets Iwaizumi into the door before he's got his arms around him, kissing his cheeks and ignoring the groan Iwaizumi gives him. "Awww, don't give me that! I revitalize you, don't I?"

"You're being more of a pain in my ass right now." Yet he still drops his bags and hooks his hands around Oikawa's back, the familiar weight dropping onto him as Iwaizumi leans into his embrace with a deep exhale. He feels Iwaizumi nuzzle into the crook of his neck and breathe in, smiling as the knots come undone beneath his hands.

It feels like coming home for both of them.

Oikawa lingers, whispers a soft _welcome home_ as he draws back and lets his heart beat as fast as it damn well pleases, helping to pick up Iwaizumi's luggage. As tired as he is Iwaizumi still catches his hand lightning quick and Oikawa winces as the rough fingers press into the bandages, a pointed look at him.

" _This_ is actually your fault, Iwa-chan." He wiggles the injured digit and makes a soft noise of surprise when Iwaizumi kisses it, looking down at their feet with warming cheeks. "When you, um, knocked. I was drying a dish and I dropped it."

"It's my fault," Iwaizumi agrees, pressing another soft kiss to it and then to the corner of Oikawa's lips, staying close. "Lemme make it up to you."

The heat from his cheeks pools down to his stomach and he feels shy, pushing Iwaizumi towards the couch and going to put the luggage away. _Just for a week,_ he thinks. _I have him for just a week._

And the week would be _perfect_ if he had his way. Iwaizumi's favorites are all lined up and ready to cook, everything's neat and presentable (which earns him a snort), and there were plenty of things to do together. _But that can start tomorrow,_ Oikawa smiles to himself as he sinks into the couch beside Iwaizumi and welcomes the arm around his shoulder, pressing closer.

"So how're you gonna make it up to me, big boy?" Iwaizumi's cheeks stain pink and he feels the other nosing closer to his ear.

"Any way you want it, hot shot." Oikawa shivers. Swallows hard and keeps his eyes focused ahead, trying not to appear as blissfully excited as he is. Iwaizumi grins from his peripheral, rubbing his arm gently.

It's getting harder to win this too.

Not that he minds _that_ much. Being flirted with by Iwaizumi is one of life's single greatest joys, turns his legs to jelly, makes him crave more and more contact and time with his boyfriend. Neither of them can afford it regularly, too wrapped up in their own degrees, and the daily texts, pictures, and calls can only satisfy so much. But it's for days like these that Oikawa thinks it's fine to be a little on the losing side. He might be restless and nervous to the point of cleaning his _entire unit_ but that's nothing new.

Iwaizumi shifts and something catches his eye, peeking out from under the dark sleeve pressed pleasantly against his tan shoulder.

"-- Iwa-chan," Oikawa moves away and runs his thumb under Iwaizumi's sleeve and yanks it up, staring the stylized tiger in the face. " _That's_ new. When'd you get this?"

He rolls his shoulders and shrugs in reply, looking at it with Oikawa. "A few months ago. When'd you get _this_?"

A tug to his pierced ear. Oikawa makes a face at him that melts into a pleased grin (he noticed it!) as he sits back smugly, crossing his arms. "W-e-e- _ell_ , I got it a week or so ago. I thought maybe you'd like it since you like chewing on my ears so much, you hound."

"It looks nice," but Iwaizumi keeps stealing glances at it, not that Oikawa can say anything. He keeps looking at the tattoo. _God_ , does it look good on him.

Oikawa drums his fingers on his leg, blowing out his mouth slowly and leaning his head against Iwaizumi's shoulder with all the nonchalance he can muster. "Got any more?"

"Not yet." _Yet._ "If you don't mind it."

"I never thought I'd see the day when Iwa-chan got a tattoo, seeing how you used to be _so afraid_ of needles--" Iwaizumi shoves him not-so-gently, snorting, and Oikawa pushes back as he finishes, voice dropping an octave and words rolling off easy. "But I like it a _lot_ , Iwa-chan."

It gets him the deliberately slow inhale he was looking for, a sign that Iwaizumi's doing his _very best_ not to think about what he's promising with his tone (whatever it might be, not even Oikawa's sure), and the man smirks lightly as he turns to trap Oikawa against the sofa. His heart bounces hard against his sternum and he tries not to show how affected he is, but his composure drops away at Iwaizumi's words.

"Good, 'cause you're coming with me next time."

Straight into horror.

"No! No no no nonono definitely, _definitely_ not! A piercing is one thing, Iwa-chan, but a tattoo is different!" There's one sting compared to _hours of it_. "I admire your strength and bravery, but I will be the first between us to say that I am the biggest baby and almost cried getting this piercing."

Iwaizumi cracks a grin wide at him and he pinches Oikawa's embarrassed flushed cheek. "I knew it. You were acting like you'd gotten it no problem, you ass, I knew you cried."

" _Almost_ cried!"

"You never _almost_ anything," and Oikawa would certainly tell him he's just the same way but they're very close and that's Iwaizumi's knee between his legs, "so you _definitely_ cried some."

"You're not saying very nice things in such a nice position, Iwa-chan, it makes you very misleading."

Iwaizumi hums, leaning forward and Oikawa struggles to stay annoyed at the sweet kiss, but he breaks it with a sigh and wraps his arms around his boyfriend's neck as he pecks him liberally, laughter silenced with a harder one. His grip tightens when Iwaizumi's mouth slackens enough for Oikawa to explore old territory, every brush of their tongues sending shivers down his spine. _Home_ , for all its neatness, its currently presentable state, its readiness for a new arrival, has never felt like it until _this_. The knowing touches and careful scrape of teeth against his lip, the kisses pressed down his jaw and neck, enough warmth that Oikawa's wishing their clothes were off but no pressing need to just fuck and get it over with--

No, it's the savoring of their time together that makes it feel right to him, that sends electricity across his skin and lets him yearn for more. _Later,_ Iwaizumi's kisses promise, because he wants to too. But he's tired and Oikawa knows this, settling for soft and slow. There's an entire week to be had.

He still teases Iwaizumi for paying special attention to his piercing though.


	29. knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they've known each other for a while now, as human and merman, but there's still a world of difference that interests both

"You know," Oikawa whispers at his palm, breath tickling the calloused skin, "It's still weird to me that you don't have webbing. Nothing at all to help you swim."

"It's weird that you _do_ ," Iwaizumi counters, feeling lazy in the sun and used to the merman's wandering touch. He shouldn't be. That's dangerous territory. "What's the point of it on your hands? Don't you swim like a dolphin?"

The merman pushes up on his arms and makes a face at him, scooting closer to lay their chests together. Now, face to face, Iwaizumi finds himself transfixed by how _pretty_ Oikawa is, unearthly so, and knows it's part of the sea's charm.

"We do. But it still helps to make swimming easier, you know. It helps balance me in the water too." Oikawa splays his hand against Iwaizumi's chest and it's _dangerous_ , so nice to feel the cool fingertips on the bit of skin they touch. The fish stares at him, the corner of his lip pulling up as he leans closer and Iwaizumi knows he can feel the picked up heart beat. "Iwa-chan, I'm interested in our differences, so can we compare?"

It's an exploration of mutual interest.

That's what he convinces himself it is, reluctantly agreeing to it and jerking away when Oikawa's hands reach to pull of his shirt. He does it himself, _thank you_ , because he's got some damn dignity. And letting those cool hands press themselves against his sun-heated skin is something he's gonna need to steel himself for. It's not the first, second, or third time Oikawa's seen him like this but he's still self conscious about the way the other's eyes drink him in like it is, forcing himself to lean back and relax.

"So. You were telling me about other finds of mermaids-- _merfolk_ ," he corrects himself, and Oikawa's eyes squint with his smile. "About them having different amount of scales and stuff."

"Mmhmm. A lot of the cold water ones have more blubber and hair than others, beards that're tied with kelp and adorned with shells. In the warmer seas you'll find merfolk with colorful scales all across their bodies, faces, _everywhere_." Oikawa presses his hands against Iwaizumi's chest again, but it's showing intent as he points out the spots. "There's not a bit of hair on them, completely smooth. They don't need it."

Even Oikawa has some, he notices up close. It's fine and light, enough to keep off the colder months and retain the sun's warmth.

"Humans are like that too, except it's... kinda the opposite, I guess. The closer you get to the hotter places the darker their skin is. The colder you get the lighter."

Oikawa chuckles, lays away and takes one of Iwaizumi's hands to play with as his silver scales shine blueish in the light. "Actually... That's not too different. We're the same way. More colors, vibrant to match the coral, but our skin gets darker too. In the deeper seas they have such pale skin it's almost translucent. They're blind too."

Guess there wouldn't be much need for sight down there. Iwaizumi takes his hand away and strokes Oikawa's scales, smirking at the tail's jerking tension and the forced relaxation. It's just as firm as any fish body, cool and slick under his fingers, but it reminds him of work and for that he thanks every god that's out there. Nothing sexy about a fish.

"Can I... Can I touch your legs too?" Oikawa stares openly at them and Iwaizumi shucks off his pants in response. It's only fair. And, well, the merman's pretty cute when he looks so excited.

It's weird but not unpleasant to have the hands patting at his legs. Oikawa obviously hasn't chilled with other humans besides him, which is good! Good, but troublesome, since it means that all of his weird questions and assumptions are directed towards Iwaizumi alone. And this too. This exploring thing.

"They're not _that_ exciting."

"To _you_. The closest I get is to the swimmers I scare, and obviously I can't stay there long." So it's a real treat. Iwaizumi shrugs and tries to be more bothered that he pretty much stripped on command, though Oikawa's happiness is dampening it. Stupid.

He does get bored eventually though, relaxing stretched across the dock of the boat, and Iwaizumi takes this chance to touch the merman himself. It's different than when Oikawa's warming himself, the skin already a little dry from the hours spent above sea, and it feels just like anyone's does after they've taken a dip in the salty water. The transition from skin to scales is surprisingly smooth too.

Oikawa catches his hand as it sinks lower, subdued in tone but eyes wide and ready. "You should ask permission, Iwa-chan. There's some odd things here and there if you're not careful."

"Yeah? Wanna tell me before I find out myself?"

"... No," he replies, curtness upset by the redness rising to his cheeks. "It's nothing _you_ need to worry about. Just be careful of where you touch."

And he releases his hand just like that, obviously on edge. Iwaizumi wonders if he should press his luck. He decides it's worth it, since Oikawa's looking like he wants him to anyway, and delicately strokes the fins below his hips, down the rippled silver scales to as far as his fingertips can reach and tries to figure out what they feel like.

 _Fingernails,_ he realizes when he looks at them side by side. They're like harder fingernails. It's the best thing that can come to find, rubbing them gently with his thumb and watching Oikawa's tail squirm in response.

"Are you-- Are you humans always this touchy? I mean, it's _just_ a fish tail," Oikawa huffs softly, but he's red across his shoulders when Iwaizumi looks back at him. He's probably enjoying this a lot more than he's expecting. "It's not _that_ exciting."

"To _you_." When Oikawa realizes it's a mimicry of his words from before he smacks Iwaizumi's shoulder. He grins and goes back to prodding the tail at random, scooting down to touch the large fin at the end. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Well--" Another huff. The merman crosses his arms, apparently defeated. Good. If Iwaizumi had to get felt up, this guy's gotta deal with it too.

... When it's put like that in his mind though, he just does a few more rebellious touches and sits back, staring at Oikawa. The other returns the uneasy look and glances at the ocean after a moment.

"I'm drying up, so let's take a dive."

An easy escape that Iwaizumi welcomes, throwing the merman off his boat with no hesitation and laughing at the yelp. Oikawa bursts to the surface and shakes his head, scowl breaking into a grin as he dips backwards into the water, scales shining anew in the sun and Iwaizumi can't catch his breath back fast enough before water splashes into his slacked jaw. He splutters, reels back and hurries to join him in the water.

Iwaizumi _barely_ stops himself from touching the other while they're beneath the swells, but Oikawa seems to have a renewed passion for his skin anyway, pressing close with a sound even _he_ can register as a laugh, grinning in the brilliant way that makes him lose his breath like it's the first time they dove together. Radiant and beautiful. It's no wonder that sailor lost their lives to the sea like this.

He's gotta be careful not to lose his too.


	30. denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nope, nothing like that at all. just a love of convenience

"You're not going up to the surface, are you?" Tooru looks back at Shigeru, smiling at the other's respectful manner even as he's so clearly suspicious of him.

"No, of course not. I'm just going down to the deeper seas to explore the sunken ships." Which is just as bad, Shigeru's look tells him, but he already knows. He grins widely and takes the other's hands, swimming them in a circle and relishing the surprised redness on his cheeks. "Oh, don't look like that~. I'm only gonna be there for a few hours today, I'll be home by dinner."

"That's what you said last time."

Tooru hums, murmuring a quiet "did I?" and shrugging at Shigeru's nod.

"I just lost track of time, that's all. The sun's hard to gauge from there."

He knows the other's not convinced in the least, but he lets go of his hands and darts off without another word, laughing loudly when he hears Shigeru calling out from behind. There's very few people who can swim as fast as he does and fewer who can match him in endurance--

And while Iwaizumi's neither of those, Tooru enjoys swimming with him the most. So no, he's not going to the ships. He'd cleaned those out _years_ ago. The surface is _exactly_ where he's heading to, breaking through the waves with a whooping yell that scares the gulls flying above. The merman grins apologetically at them as he swims along, ducking back under at the first sight of shore and looking for the familiar barnacle ridden hull of _his_ ship. The one he'd claimed as his own along with the human on board.

Plenty of ships look the same from beneath. But Iwaizumi's has a glint, a pretty rock stuck into the crust in sore need of being scraped off someday, that Tooru stuck in himself so he'd always know which was safe. It blinks in the sunlight and he nearly rams into the wood it's wedge into, looking for the familiar shadow on either side of the ship and slipping seamlessly up, not breaking a single ripple in his efforts.

"Iwa-chan~." The fisherman scowls when he hears the name, leaning over the side of his boat. The merman waves as he floats on his back, trying to push down the fluttering happiness that came with seeing Iwaizumi. "Have you caught anything yet?"

"Plenty. I don't _need_ your help, you know."

But he doesn't turn it away, gives his thanks in the form of breakfast and a space on the deck to stretch out. Tooru laughs, reaching out his hands and clinging to the net that's slung over on the side for him to climb. It's harder when he lifts himself out of the water - it's _so_ unfair that the sea's the only weightless place - and Iwaizumi pulls him the rest of the way up, fixing bait back into it before it's back out to sea. He stretches with a happy sigh across the sun-warmed wood, watching the human do his dailies.

"Do you ever get tired of coming up here?" Iwaizumi asks, holding the fish cake out of reach. Tooru mumbles something noncommittal and brushes his fingertips just shy of the hand, scowling. "I'll give it to you if you answer seriously."

He huffs, giving it one last grab and falling forward. "Iwa-chan's _starving_ meeeeee."

"Drama queen."

"Meanie." A hand ruffles his head lightly, lingering as if still amazed, and Iwaizumi plops down in front of him. Tooru rests on his palms and stares at him, a smile tugging at his lips. Fine. "I won't ever get tired of coming up here, Iwa-chan. 'Cause it's different every time I do, 'cause there's so much more to learn, and," he drawls, rolling onto his back with a wide grin, "'cause _you're_ here, Iwa-chan~."

Iwaizumi gets that look on his face, like he's not sure if he should take Tooru seriously or not, but hands over the fish cake and chuckles when the merman simply stuffs it all into his mouth. It's _delicious_ as always, as fast as he devours it, and he eagerly accepts the next one.

The human'll never accept it probably, but Tooru loves him. Or the idea of him. It's one of the two, since he's never had this feeling about anything but the surface and what he's found up here, but the merman thinks he can certainly call it "love". He savors the second one and touches Iwaizumi's knee, asking for permission and getting a pair of rolling eyes in response.

"You're gonna anyway, so whatever." Holds open his arms and Tooru sees his grin mirrored in the other's eyes as he launches himself into them, sighing happily at the immediate warmth against his skin and nuzzling into his human's neck.

"You don't have to bring your nets up?"

"Not _every_ fish is as dumb as you, moron." Hands rub his back and another sigh slips out, relaxing too easily into the embrace. It's honestly dangerous to be so content with this. Any merfolk knows that. Tooru thinks of the laws beneath the sea and stifles a laugh with his hand, wondering what price he'd pay for his misconduct. "You're slimier than usual today."

"That's because we got right to it, Iwa-chan~. You're so eager to get me close to you, aren't you~?"

" _You're_ the one who was asking _me_ so quick." Punctuated with a stinging smack to his back, but his whine's twice as pained as he actually is. Iwaizumi knows that too. "Did something happen?"

"Oho? Concerned about me?"

Tooru yelps at the hard pinch in his side, smacking Iwaizumi lightly as he settles back against him and looks to the side. "Nothing happened."

Nothing that warrants concern, anyway. Shigeru would be looking through sunken ships - if he got someone to go with him, one of the guards - and there's so many of them from ages ago it'd take forever to search each one. There wasn't any worry from that. The feelings might be a bad thing though. Might be something Tooru should think a little harder on instead of thinking how warm and handsome Iwaizumi is.

"How long're you planning to lay here today?"

"I can only stay around for a few hours. A friend of mine caught me coming out-- but he doesn't know where I am," he assures Iwaizumi quickly, tipping his head up and tensing slightly at being so close so suddenly. Tooru's seen things on shore like this. Just lean up and there'd be a kiss. His lips pull into a smile and he ducks his head back down, hoping the human's too busy thinking about something else to realize it's not the sun's fault he's turning pink. "No one ever does. You're my perfect secret, Iwa-chan."

"The way you said that is disgusting. Retract it or change it immediately."

"Not. A. Chance. It's the truth, and if you don't like it then oh well."

Iwaizumi pinches him again, but it's short and doesn't hurt that much. It makes Tooru uncomfortable in a way he doesn't care to explain to himself, like he wants to jump back into the sea but at the same time press a little closer. So he does the latter, become too aware of the way the human's dry hands slide across his skin and how _good_ it feels. He doesn't want it to stop.

But not for something as ultimate as _love_ , the kind that brings young merfolk to the surface in horror stories and leaves them a bunch of foam on the beach. Nothing like that. Nope, he loves Iwaizumi but it's more of what he can offer to him than anything.

"Hopefully," he breathes against Iwaizumi's skin and brushes off the next question with a laugh. Hopefully.


	31. wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> while out at sea, iwaizumi thinks of a lot of things
> 
> most of those begin or end with oikawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another merfolk bit ~~hope you guys aren't sick of it yet~~

When Iwaizumi was a boy, his uncle would take him to sea for weeks at a time and tell him about the creatures under the waves. How their call could kill you, how following them to the deeps would leave you floating away, how beautiful they were said to be to men but ugly enough to make a woman cry - but the thing that sticks to the back of his mind is about how if you eat their flesh you become _immortal_.

It's been years since he was on a sailboat, at the wind's mercy for speed and with only a rudder to help guide him, but Oikawa's eyes are shining like it's the most magnificent thing humans have ever created--

"Besides those little cakes you keep bringing me," he adds on, though Iwaizumi's told him time and time again they're not _real_ cakes. More like patties. The merman is too happy that he's able to get into the boat himself (though it jerks at the sudden weight, it doesn't capsize, just gives Iwaizumi a _fucking heart attack_ ) but is less pleased about how little space there is for him to personal stretch out without being in the way, smacking at the sides he's trapped by.

Iwaizumi sighs, hefts him up with a groan, and ignores the squirming in his stomach that's definitely _not_ seasickness as he carries the giant fish to the bow, setting him down as gently as he can manage and pointing at the pulpit. "If you lay down there, you can hold onto the railing and not slip off. As hilarious as that'd be to see."

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him and does as suggested, arm wrapped around the middle beam and looking down at the ocean. It's so close, but he can't touch it with his hand.

Wonder how that feels.

 _At least he can escape anytime he wants, even if he claims there's no need for it._ Kind of a relief. The merman looks back when Iwaizumi's busy with the sail and he finds himself stilled, staring right back.

"What?" He finally asks, annoyance at his own squeamish stomach rising. The sea's only made him like this recently. It's _bad_ , because he's used to it on land, but the ocean's a relaxing place for him. Stupid fish.

"Nothing. I'm just interested in seeing how it works. We don't have anything that uses the wind, after all." It picks up as if eavesdropping and tousles Oikawa's hair, a friendly gesture between air and sea, and Iwaizumi thinks about how weird it was to pet him the first time. Kind of damp, but not soaked. Dried easy. The merman turns back to the sea and lays down, hand off the boat in another fruitless effort to catch the waves. "Does it go fast?"

"If the wind lets it. My uncle used to go out before storms and catch it then, since that's when it's the fastest."

Iwaizumi loosens the sail and pulls it along, the satisfying snapping sounds of it catching the wind making him grin. He ropes it up, not minding the keen eyes watching him this time (probably drawn by the sound of the sail) and the boat starts to glide to Oikawa's rising excitement.

It can't be the first time he's seen them move or in general. It can't be. But it's definitely his first time _on_ one, and the merman's giddiness is infectious.

"How fast have you gone, Iwa-chan? I bet I could beat you even like this!"

"It depends on the wind, dumbass, you'd win pretty much every time." It's a nice breeze though. Iwaizumi has a vague concern that Oikawa might dry out easier with them going like this, and he's proved right when he touches the other's skin (the jump would be hilarious if it wasn't for this) and it's not as slimy as usual. Oikawa's eyes meet his, a warning laced with curiosity, and smiles too easily for his taste.

"It's fine, Iwa-chan. I know my limits."

Iwaizumi's getting better at reading the enigma. Like right now, Oikawa doesn't want to think about going back into the sea. It's comfortable up here. He wants to stay up top and press his fishy tail against Iwaizumi's legs and feel the difference in scales and fabric. The sailor sighs and drops down next to him, letting his legs hang over the edge, much to his friend's (friend? can he really be called a friend?) pouting.

"Fine. You can just slip right off into the water anyway, so I'm not tossing you in myself."

"Awww, and I was just starting to enjoy your arms." Oikawa's touch feels like a chilling breeze in the warmth of spring and he holds back a shiver. "You're as warm as always, Iwa-chan. Lay down with me?"

"No. You're still gross. And I gotta keep an eye on where we're going, so I can't just cozy on up to you and let you get your stink all over me like usual."

Oikawa's tail slams behind him and he grins at the whine. "You're so mean, Iwa-chan! You always smell like fish anyway!"

Iwaizumi snorts and ruffles his hair, figuring that duck feathers might not be _too_ off as an afterthought. That same kind of... oil, he thinks it is. Pretty soft too.

After a little bit he goes back to the wheel and keeps an eye on the sun, wows Oikawa with the view of the sea from above, and learns some interesting things himself. Like where there's seaweed forests and coral homes, how far Oikawa's city is beneath the sea ("If you went straight down... Here, I think, then you'd hit it. But I'm not leaving just to check!"), an outcropping of rocks as he glides them around the coast that Oikawa claims is a hotspot for seeing merfolk.

"Why's that?"

"The rocks are dark, right? They heat up really fast in the sun, so in the evenings there's a lot of people who come up here to soak up warmth before the water gets cold... It's the only time and place we're allowed." Oikawa pulls himself up against the railings, leaving Iwaizumi to wonder just how a merperson's tail really worked and if that was safe, and looks back at him with a sheepish smile. "Well, unless you're a rule breaker like me~."

He's pretty. Oikawa's always been pretty since the first day Iwaizumi hauled him up and immediately threw him back into the sea, and that fact hasn't change with time. If anything he's becoming increasingly aware of the sway beneath his feet, how the boat bobs in the water even when they're stopped like this, and how Oikawa's smile makes him want to smile too. They're all factors that make him lean against the wheel, really press his forehead into it, because _what the fuck, **no**_.

Dangerous. Having Oikawa around is dangerous. Maybe he knows that, maybe Iwaizumi's usefulness ends when he gets to land and learns everything he wants to know. Slowly lowering his defenses to make it easier.

Iwaizumi flicks his eyes back up at the merman, his laughter carried by the wind, and sighs. "You're gonna dry out if you stay like that, Oikawa."

"Honestly," Oikawa turns himself around, resting against the rails in a way that _can't_ be too nice judging from his pause, the sheepish look coming back, "I've been dry for a while now, but I don't want to leave the boat."

There's a stinging pain in his chest when his heart panics and he opens his mouth, feeling a yell in the bottom of his throat--

"But it's okay, Iwa-chan." He almost doesn't hear it, as soft as it's said, as if they were right beside each other and not across the boat. "I don't mind. And I know when I'm at my limit. You trust me, don't you?"

Trust is an odd thing between them.

Iwaizumi trusts Oikawa not to kill him (anytime soon) and Oikawa trusts the same. He trusts the other not to mess with his catches (unless it's to help), trusts him not to interact with other humans, trusts him not to get caught and killed by either of their people. And seeing how warily Oikawa looks at him now, how his grip on the rails must be tight to hold himself up, how vulnerable he lets himself be...

"... If you end up dead on my deck, I'm selling you off. It won't be my fault."

Oikawa slumps against the deck - which must hurt from the sound, but Iwaizumi's not looking anymore - and laughs, stretched back to skim his fingers against the small waves when he _does_ sneak a glance back, absolutely relaxed. "I know, Iwa-chan. I'll take a dip in soon and we'll see who goes faster: Your boat... Or me~."

"Like I said, of _course_ you're gonna be faster! Dumbass!" But the panic from before's been washed away and he catches himself grinning, forcing it into a scowl as Oikawa laughs again, too carefree for someone at the mercy of his kind's most hated enemy.

Iwaizumi's not sure _why_ Oikawa's so fine with this, when he could be killed at any moment, and even reason after reason he's pretty sure he'll never understand.

 _Oh well,_ he thinks, letting the sail loose again and swinging the boat around sharp enough to roll Oikawa between the low bars of the railing and into the sea with a squawk, _It's his problem, not mine._


	32. there's three weights: guilt, loneliness, and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _tick, tick, tick_ , seconds of a life clocking away
> 
>  _thump, thump, thump,_ the sounds of oikawa's frustrations piling up
> 
> it was something stupid anyway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unrelated to the writing challenge i'm doing (whew!) i just wanted to finish this one up. there's some cool info at the bottom if you skip on down though!

The clock's got him on edge. In the dead silence of winter, hair raised by static and eyes trained but unseeing on the computer screen in front of him, it's a loud reminder of the seconds that pass by without Iwaizumi nearby.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

"You're too loud," he tells the wristwatch he'd gotten from his parents as an early Christmas gift (because they're away visiting family he's never met and doesn't care to meet, in a place even colder than Miyagi is right now). "Can't you quiet down?"

The watch continues on, _tick, tick, tick_ ing, as if laughing at _him_ asking for some peace. Oikawa drums his fingers on the short desk and stretches up to break some monotony, but returns to the motion soon enough. It's too quiet. It's too loud. It's too everything he doesn't want, every room except his own darkened by nightfall, and not even watching movies or matches or listening to music he usually belts out to an empty house helps a bit, eyes flicking to the small numbers at the corner of his screen and back to the words that swim in his vision.

It would be _fine_ if they hadn't had such a heated argument earlier, nothing they hadn't gone through before but stung just as much because now he was alone with his own thoughts, the deafening silence and the mocking _tick, tick, tick_ of a gift two days too early. It was his fault though. Something stupid, something he shouldn't have said, something he wants to forget but his pride nailing him in place no matter how hard he tries to stand and leave his quicksand of a mood. With every struggling thought another pulls at him ( _He doesn't want to see you, he'll probably ignore you, look past you, shut the door in your face_ ) and he stays seated.

Tab in, tab out, check schedules and trudge through what he can. The music is white noise, the lyrics mumbled and beat barely discernible above his own heart. He stands, stares at the door and paces his room instead, thumbnail between his teeth as he goes to the window and opens it, pulls the winter's chill in and feeling numb to the bite as he leans out and squints against the cloudy night. Were Iwaizumi's lights on? That's the right house, he's as sure of it as he is the crispness of snow on the horizon, but everything's different in the dark.

His phone chimes and Oikawa's pretty sure he twisted his ankle throwing himself over to his bed, the throb of his ankle momentarily forgotten as he stares at the light pressed into his sheets. Goosebumps make their marks up his arms and across his shoulders, raising hair on the back of his neck as he slowly, ( _tick tick tick_ ) _slowly_ ( _ **tick tick tick**_ ) lifts the phone, the screen already dark when he's face to face with it.

Breathes in, breathes out, flips it open and his heart sinks low into his chest, burrows deep into his mattress even as he's sighing in relief that it's _not_ Iwaizumi, it's Hanamaki asking about new year's plans. Oikawa texts back, waiting for the reply before setting the phone aside again and pulling his pillow close, pushing his face into it.

Breathe in, breathe out. He's done and said worse things. Iwaizumi's always been there for him, this time is no different.

Oikawa glances at the date on his phone and sighs, dragging himself and his pillow back to his computer, pausing at it. He can't focus anyway. To the door, where his hand pauses at the knob, thinking about how empty and quiet it is right now. The watch is still loud. It ticks in time with the low beat he hears streaming out of his headset. Oikawa turns the knob and shuts the door quietly behind him, feet shuffling as he wanders his house instead. Opens every window and lets the emptiness grow cold enough to numb his body as he sits on the sofa, cocooned in his blankets and staring blankly at the TV.

But no matter how hard he tries, his feet start kicking, his hands fidget with the sheets and his clothes and hair and _everything_ , his mind lets thought after thought pile up and Oikawa finally gives in, leaving his the indiscernible warmth to shove shoes on and walk to Iwaizumi's house, steps covering (yet in time with) the _tick, tick, tick_ of the watch heavy on his wrist.

Iwaizumi's house lights are definitely on. Every single one of them, in stark contrast to the complete darkness of his own, and Oikawa wonders if the other's as jittery as he is. Clouds puff out and turn into a stream as he exhales, squeezing his arm around the pillow he hadn't realized he'd kept as he raises his finger and presses hard on the doorbell.

It chimes once, twice, and Oikawa leaves it at that. He thinks he hears footsteps from inside but they stop, so he encourages them with a third, fourth, _fifth_ \--

"Would you cut that out?" Iwaizumi growls as he swings open the door, lightly dressed with rolling warmth caressing Oikawa's chill reddened cheeks accompanying it. It just makes him shiver harder and he hides half his face, looking quietly at his friend in reply, the chime of the doorbell marking a sixth. "Are you done? Wanna give it another ring?"

Oikawa shakes head and hugs his pillow with both arms now, drawing Iwaizumi's attention to it. He looks one part confused and the other disbelieving, but they both disappear with a glance at the rest of Oikawa and a firm line in place of his annoyed look from before. The intruder (he feels like it, not a single apology dripping from his lips) flinches away from the hand reaching for his but lets himself be pulled by the wrist, as trapped as Iwaizumi's rough fingers are between flesh and pillow.

No matter what, even if they were having a fight, Iwaizumi wouldn't let it linger. That's a constant. Like the slippers he has at his friend's place (and vice versa, sons of sharing families), like the hum of the muted TV, like the sounds of a hot drink being made once Oikawa's settled on the sofa cocooned once more - but it's not lonely here, not with the presence of _Iwaizumi_ everywhere around him.

A constant. Just like Iwaizumi.

He relaxes in a single exhale, burying his face into the blankets and only looking up when there's a dip in the sofa beside him, the soft _clink_ of a cup (his mug, just like there's his slippers and his toothbrush and his futon occupying this house) on the table in front of him.

"You look like _shit_ , Oikawa." He hums softly in agreement. "Are you gonna let go of that pillow anytime soon?"

He shakes his head, resting his chin on top of it from within the blankets. Iwaizumi doesn't say anything else, maybe waiting for Oikawa to say _anything_ , and when the silence prolongs he turns up the TV a little and they watch reruns of a drama Oikawa loves with all his heart and soul. They don't get him to cry with his mind elsewhere - faraway and yet so close, centered on the teen beside him. 

"Iwa-chan," he doesn't recognize his own voice, soft but strained, and while he keeps his eyes firmly ahead he knows Iwaizumi's glancing at him from the corner of his. Oikawa doesn't bother clearing his throat, doesn't return the look, just lets his eyes dry up and blames the wetness on staring too long, vaguely aware of the volume lowering. "Do you remember what we were fighting about?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head this time, hand tentatively resting on Oikawa's head. The weight is more than welcome.

"I don't remember either," with a breathy laugh as he wipes his eyes and stretches out his legs from the cocoon, not completely coming out but starting to unwind. "It's nothing worth thinking about during the holidays then, right?" Exhale, hesitantly resting against his friend. "My parents are out of town," which Iwaizumi knows, "so I was wondering if I could stay until they get back?"

"You're like a damn rabbit," but it's not a _no_ and Iwaizumi's arm wrapping around his shoulders says _yes_ the way neither of them can speak, the squeeze a slight _sorry_ for whatever it was they fought over and Oikawa shakes his head, pushing more into Iwaizumi and ending up just throwing the blankets around him too, pillow replaced with the warm body he's so familiar with. It's wedged between them like the lingering guilt over whatever they fought over, even if Iwaizumi's so welcoming, and Oikawa can't bear to move it.

So like all things absolutely Iwaizumi Hajime, his friend sets it aside and leaves the space open. Just in case he wanted to come a little closer.

Oikawa stifles his laughter and accepts, knowing it's just as much of a comfort for Iwaizumi as it is for him when his friend relaxes into the contact and turns the TV back up.

The _tick_ of the weight resting against his wrist is a far off memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not really cool it's mostly me being EXTREMELY THANKFUL to everyone who's kudos me, who's bookmarked me, who'd got this thing subscribed, and _especially_ to those who've commented! thank you a lot! your continued support really, _really_ makes my day, and i'm always bouncing in my seat knowing that there's so many individuals who like my stuff!
> 
> i'm kind of awkward with these things... but i guess i'll take the time to say that if you ever want to talk to me, hit me up at [my writing blog](http://genkigratification.tumblr.com) (thank you everyone who's followed it so far! i'm really surprised!) or even at [my twitter](http://twitter.com/sundrymunity)!!
> 
> once again, thank you! (*^▽^*)


	33. order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's AI in aishiteru but they don't understand what love is
> 
> ... right?

A few days after the strange dinner Iwaizumi's got his AI enforced day off, Oikawa refusing to open anything and blocking his access when he tries to do busy work, and the other seems to have a real mind of his own when he's _commanded_ to stop fooling around and quite bluntly refuses.

"We're going to go to the park, Iwa-chan," Oikawa's hands are on his hips, but his fingers seem to be tapping nervous against it. "Okay? That's _final_. No work today."

Iwaizumi purses his lips at that, and the AI tacks on a quiet _please?_ that makes him groan and give in, if only because Oikawa wouldn't have let him work anyway. Definitely not because it sounds like it did when those odd questions came up ( _"Do you think programs can get lonely?"_ has been stuck in the back of his head and keeps him up at night).

_Definitely_ not.

When he pulls out his phone to check the time he's surprised by the sight of Oikawa in nice looking clothes, but his first thought and words out of his mouth is "Where the hell did you get _those_?"

"I just downloaded them from a friend, no charge." No lie. Oikawa presses the fashionable looking clothes flat like he's _not_ a bunch of data and grins, twirling slightly. "Well~? How do I look?"

He ignores the soft looking flowers blooming in the background of his phone and sticks it away, relieved there wasn't any misused money from his already tight budget. "Fine."

"Fine, huh...?" Oikawa doesn't sound to happy about that. The hum in his ears sounds a little defeated, but Iwaizumi doesn't have a clue why. Maybe it's just something new. Like that defect from before.

He doesn't even know why they're going to the _park_ of all places, where an AI like Oikawa can't do anything but sit there, but it _is_ pretty nice outside today... So it's fine. Let him be bored, that'll teach him a lesson. Maybe he'll get tired of nothing being able to do anything and let Iwaizumi do some work.

 

It's definitely not normal to be sitting with your phone in the park. Iwaizumi can only thank whatever there was looking out for him that no one was around anyway, utterly deserted in the early morning, but Oikawa doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seems to be enjoying himself a lot more than Iwaizumi'd thought he would, asking to be turned this way and that so he could see all the sights and take pictures of them.

"Let's have ice cream while we're out," Oikawa suggests, not the least bit phased by the fact he can't eat. And when Iwaizumi brings it up he looks a little taken aback, turning his face away and fiddling with the loose shirt. They really did a good job with their mannerisms. "I know that, but... I mean, you can have yours, and I'll have mine."

"What, like a data version of it?"

The AI nods and Iwaizumi shrugs, catching the sight of Oikawa bouncing a ball up and down just before the phone's tucked away for safe keeping. Was that a habit too?

... Now that he thought more about it, why _didn't_ Oikawa go into standby? Wasn't it just sleeping to them? Would it be weird to ask?

"You're walking slower than usual, Iwa-chan. Is something the matter?" Iwaizumi jumps, quickens his pace and shakes his head.

"Nah, nothing, I'm just thinking." He focuses on getting to ice cream parlor down the street as fast as he can, but the questions swarm his mind again and he slows his step, sticking his hands in his pockets. The phone is warm against his fingers and he can _feel_ Oikawa's buzzing curiosity. He sighs, rubbing it slightly, and clears his throat. "... Hey, what's standby like for you guys?"

It all goes quiet. There's nothing. Even the soft, upbeat music's paused, and it leaves behind that weird ringing silence.

"It's not like sleeping. I'll throw that thought out." Oikawa is just as soft, a little distant from what Iwaizumi can tell. It's weird not looking at the other while he's talking. The tells aren't there, nothing to go by but tone, and Iwaizumi's not used to that when it came to serious stuff with the AI. "It's like... It's just a more low powered kind of state. I don't feel like myself. Like there's two of me."

That's so weird. Iwaizumi just heard Oikawa say so, but he's still having trouble wrapping his head around the thought that they have that same disconnected sort of feeling when they're bunches of data.

_Evolving data_ , the memory of Yahaba's voice corrects him. _They're capable of learning anything._

Even loneliness?

"... I don't like that feeling," the AI's voice draws him out of his thoughts when he realizes that he's been quiet for too long, but it's more certain this time. "I like being active and having something to do."

"Is that why you're asking permission to download so many useless apps to my phone?"

"Yup."

Well, that makes sense at least. Iwaizumi's pretty restless too, so it's not too far off that something as busybody as an AI - especially Oikawa's model that focuses on managing many things at once - might get bored or not want to just sit and wait, want to do something to occupy their... mind? Hands? Whatever. Keep themselves busy.

The more he thinks about this the more his head starts to hurt. And it didn't really seem like Oikawa wanted to talk about it either, but that just makes him want to ask about it more.

"... Are you... lonely?" He asks, and there's a faint sound of a dropped ball from his earpiece.

"Huh?"

"Are you lonely?" Every word is slow and pronounced, his feet stopping at a streetlight as he watches the red on the other side.

Maybe Oikawa didn't think that Iwaizumi would ever ask. Maybe, because laughter fills his ears and slows after a time, the light ahead turning green and Iwaizumi moving by habit, wondering about the hum and lightness of the hiccuping giggles every now and then.

"Are you gonna answer me or what?"

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't think you'd remember, that's all." A little thankful, or relieved? It's a different tone than when Iwaizumi lets him download a new app or tells him there's no more work to be done after a particularly hard day. Oikawa doesn't need to breathe - he's a program, they don't have any of the necessities that humans do - but he inhales sharply and blows out, an odd sound in Iwaizumi's ear. "No, Iwa-chan, I'm not lonely. I was just thinking about it, that's all, and how I feel when you're not around. I don't think I could ever be _truly_ lonely as long as you're around, Iwa-chan."

It feels and sounds enough like a confession that Iwaizumi's face burns on instinct, even when there's no possible way that it is. He imagines that if Oikawa was real, if he was walking beside him and not doing whatever it was on his phone, that the other'd have his hands clasped behind his back or fiddling in front and would be wearing that weird smile that he always got when Iwaizumi poked at the screen like he was a real person. It's just an idle thought that makes his heart jump just a little.

The gentle instrumental in the background isn't helping.

"Would you turn that off? It's annoying."

"Aww, but I thought it'd be perfect for our outing... The flowers are blooming this time of year, after all!"

Iwaizumi snorts and is too grateful when the AI changes it to something else, poppy but with lyrics. That's fine. Whatever. As long as it didn't make him feel like he was the leading heroine of one of his younger sister's romances.

There's no more talk about loneliness or anything like that, and he's thankful for it.

 

It occurs to him about halfway through the day, when he's sitting on a bench under draping cherry blossoms and staring at the similarly printed background Oikawa's chatting in front of without a single care, that this might be _in any other instance_ considered a date. He's not sure what tips him off. Maybe it's the AI's insistence they go to places that're full of couples. Maybe it's the mood setting music that slips seamlessly into each other. Or maybe, just maybe, it's the fact that this entire time Oikawa's been in his full sprite form, all smiles and soft coloring in his cheeks whenever Iwaizumi says something or looks his way.

Maybe.

He doesn't want to ask though, because if the answer's yes then he has to deal with the fact his AI might have a crush on him. And that's weird. If the answer was no, then he might have to come to terms with the fact he wouldn't totally dislike going on dates with his AI. And that's _weirder_. Even objectively.

"Are you relaxing, Iwa-chan?"

"-- Uh, yeah, I am." Oikawa beams up from his hands, small sparkles accompanying his happy mood. _It's not a date,_ he repeats to himself. _It's just a day off._ Just a forced day to relax. With his AI. Not that Iwaizumi would leave him alone anymore - not with _"Do you think programs can get lonely?"_ hanging over his head every time he considers it. "Have... _you_ been having fun?"

Oikawa blinks and spins around on screen, hands clasped behind his back like Iwaizumi thought it would be. "I guess so~. I'm really bummed that I can't be sitting beside you though, I think I'd like to lean on you."

_It is a date._

Iwaizumi doesn't know how to feel. Flattered, maybe, but seriously confused. So he goes the most obvious route and flat out asks Oikawa if this is a date.

The AI's ears visibly flare red and he pushes the puffs of smoke away, turning around to reveal the rest of the coloring and forcing a laugh. "N-No! Of course not! I was just, you know, thinking it'd be nice to spend time together, and these are the hottest spots and stuff..."

"They're perfect _date_ spots," but Iwaizumi's still stumbling for how to feel about the revelation, wonders if it's alright to like a guy as long as he's not real and immediately going _no, fuck that, he's still a guy, that's wrong_ , and Oikawa's guilty look says he's right on the money. The question of _why_ lingers longer on his tongue than it should and he swallows instead of spitting, resting on his hand and staring down at the phone with quiet amusement at the other's averted eyes and fidgeting hands. "... I don't care. It was fun and I wouldn't mind going out again."

"Really?!" Iwaizumi almost wishes there was the dog tail from this morning now, it'd probably be waving like crazy. The blush is down to just his cheeks, but it's bright as his smile and Iwaizumi has a hard time looking away. "I mean, that's good! I'm glad you had fun! You look a lot happier now too, Iwa-chan, not all tired and stuff like yesterday."

And Oikawa's probably doubly happy about being able to be out like this too. Fondness guides his hand to press a finger onto Oikawa's head and rub it, though he's still not sure if the AI can feel it or not.. But the indication that he can, a surprised look followed by a content smile, is _more_ proof that he's just a program, not someone faraway from Iwaizumi.

It's both disheartening (because Oikawa is a pretty good friend, for all his annoyances, for all that he's a program set up for any one else can get) and relieving (because Iwaizumi's not sure how he'd handle a real life Oikawa that wants to spend time with him, that wants to lean against him under cherry blossoms, and "recharges" by being nearby) that the knowledge is there and ever present. Iwaizumi ruffles at the AI's hair more and sits the phone beside him, facing upward at the cherry blossoms, and grins lightly at the amazed sigh from the other.

Date, relaxation, whatever. It didn't matter that much. Oikawa's just an AI in the end, and AI might feel lonely but something like _love_ was far out of their reach. _That's_ something Iwaizumi's 100% sure of.


	34. thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a snapshot of the lonely life of a farmer's child who knows only the earth and of a moon spirit who longs to play in the sun

Under a starless night in July, rain pouring in front of them, Iwaizumi's grip on Oikawa tightens and the other coughs, loosening it quick. There's no way to stretch this out. It's only a matter of time before the sun rises and Oikawa leaves him again for another month. Falling in love with a moon spirit hadn't been his idea of a good time but, well, here he was. Holding one. Feeling the coolness of their skin, soft and pale, and staring at the clouds and knowing there's no moon behind them.

Well. There's a moon, but it's Oikawa's only time off during the phases. When they were younger they had a lot more time off, tiptoeing across the small pond and laughing at the koi trying for their toes. But Oikawa isn't completely ethereal, isn't made of light or rock. Oikawa is just as much flesh as he is, has the same number of almost everything...

Except for a third eye hidden beneath their locks of pale, almost silverish chestnut hair: An 'All Seeing Gaze' of the world beneath the heavens.

Iwaizumi wishes that the eye would just focus on him. Oikawa never lets it slip that the mortal is their favorite thing to watch.

"I wish you could come up with me," they say airily, linking hands with him and tracing the constellations they're so fond of into the back of it. Iwaizumi knows every one by heart too, their common names at his tongue and the true names spoken in safely guarded whispers. "It'd be nice to have some company I actually _liked_."

"You like them." All they've got is stories about their friends after all, the other spirits that haunt the night and visit them up in the stars.

"Not as much as I like _you_."

The usual tease, followed by laughter that's drowned by the pattering rain and light touches flitting across his arms and then his face as Oikawa sits up to grin at him, looking more like one of the light spirits that kiss the flowers in the morning than the ones that close their petals. Iwaizumi returns the look and lets the other roam their fingers across his cheeks and across the rest of his face, leaning into the touch a little.

"You say that every time," he rumbles, reaching up to poke the moon spirit's cheek this round, a break in their usual routine. "Do you mean it?"

Oikawa looks down at him, shoulders setting back as their smile curls lightly into something Iwaizumi recognizes as mischief shortly before they presses against him, lips warming up against his and words melding with the kiss. "Do you think I do?"

He whispers _sure_ and pushes through their hair, shifting to fit their body against his more snugly, resting his chin against their shoulder and feeling their cool breath against his skin as they just sit there.

The sky's growing lighter now. It won't be long until Oikawa has to leave again and Iwaizumi'll be scolded for daydreaming about a time when a new spirit is born and Oikawa can relinquish their spot and spend more time down here. He tightens his grip on them and sighs.

"Do you really have to go back?"

"Mmhmm." Oikawa nuzzles into him and seems to relax completely, languid and breathing slowly. "But I know how to get there fast, so let's wait until the sun peaks over the treeline. Okay?"

That sounds dangerous. Iwaizumi's not sure what happens if the moon spirit gets caught out in the daytime, but with how avoidant they are of it... It's probably nothing, yet he can't help but worry.

"Are you sure?"

"As I am of anything." Very sure. Oikawa lifts away enough to smile at Iwaizumi and nuzzle into his cheek, sighing softly. "So let's just relax 'kay?"

He shrugs, leans back, and tries not to feel so bothered about it. If they're sure, then they're sure. No getting around that.

...

"Hey," he starts, shaking Oikawa a little. "How do moon spirits transfer their throne? There's only one at a time, so... What happens?"

They stiffen at the question and can't seem to relax again, fidgeting this way and that, and they're hesitant when they answer. "We share a kiss. That's all."

It sounds like there's more, but Oikawa doesn't let him ask anything else, kissing him with a new passion that warms Iwaizumi's body like the day and makes him forget about it. They still seem a little on edge when it's time to leave though, a final kiss and gone as soon as he blinks.

Hajime's insides gnaw on emptiness and he works through the next month, crossing off the days he gets to hold Oikawa again.


	35. summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the week tooru doesn't have iwaizumi three houses away, he realizes something so simple that it only serves to complicate everything else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before reading this, before going _any further_ , the required reading is to at least chapter three of [on lightning, on luster](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3676341/chapters/8129103) by tothemoon. it's for her and her wonderful story that's torn me apart with every new chapter! please read and enjoy!

Summer's always felt like a nice season, for all their living and dying, and Tooru relishes in every drop of sunlight that scatters across his skin, peeking between the shadows of the trees. Like _their_ season, kind of, in a strange way he can't really grasp just yet. It's nothing he wants to share with anyone. These thoughts - of his own numbered lives to the vast many more that Iwaizumi has - are solemn and quiet, drifting like clouds that pass overhead in the space he's made his own between life and death.

It might be like sleeping once or twice, but it's still like lightning to him, like he's running a marathon by the end and all he's aching for is _more_.

One darkened thunderhead rolls across in the faint vision, his back against the hard earth, and he's reminded of his first death. He laughs lightly, remembering how he'd climbed to the top and stretched his hand to the sky, only for it to answer with a spark of electricity that'd made him a legend. A golden boy. _Bright things fade fast,_ he remembers telling Iwaizumi, and pulls an arm to cover his eyes from the void's light.

He returns to life the day after his fourth death, drenching in the oncoming downpour and racing home to see if Iwaizumi's okay, the other continuing to flutter across his mind with every step--

And he stops pauses with a foot in a puddle, and wonders _why_.

♪

"Not yet," Iwaizumi's mom says when he visits dressed down, looking worn with a mourning bracelet swaying loosely on her wrist as she prepares dinner. _Hit by a car,_ his own mother had told him. _Just outside of that cake shop you like so much. I'm sorry, Tooru._ "I'm sorry, Tooru-kun, but I'm afraid that all of us Iwaizumis have liked spending a little more time there than others."

It's peaceful, or so Tooru understands.

It just feels like wasted time to him.

Time he can't _afford_ to waste, not with so little lives, and he knows that even if Iwaizumi's got _so many more_ he feels the same.

"Make sure you're careful going down stairs! It's slippery because of the rain, and we don't want you going back another time this month." Iwaizumi's mother's concern isn't unfounded but Tooru laughs it off anyway, thanking her for her worry and letting the rain drown him as he plods along the street to his home three houses down.

He braids together a white bracelet this time and loosens it enough for it to be a danger in falling off if it wasn't for the fanning of his hand, staring down at the twine and wondering how many times he'll have to see this same sight.

♪

Tooru spends a lot of time looking at his ceiling, setting the play worn volleyball into the air time and time again, with the pattering of the rain the only noise he can focus on. It'd been raining nonstop now. Three days, no return. Why hadn't he come back? Did Iwaizumi like that side better than this, where he didn't have to worry about a boy with seven-- _six_ , he corrects himself, six lives, where it was _calm_ and _peaceful_ and _nice_?

It makes his chest ache and he lets the ball drop onto him, the quiet _thump_ of it rolling onto the ground as he presses his hand to his heart and presses his lips together in the same instance.

That day, he'd excused himself from the party because Iwaizumi hadn't come to his party yet. He'd been late. So Tooru was worried, naturally, and because Iwaizumi had a present for him. _Just_ because of the present, he tries to convince himself, when there's a haunting thought of something _more_. He'd gone running to catch Iwaizumi on the way and walk with him there, to find his best friend and make sure he'd never miss his sixteenth birthday, and felt the world falling right under him at a missed step.

And now here he was, laying perfectly still on his bed, and feeling the world slipping from his grasp again. Tooru swallows hard, doesn't know if he wants to put a name to the difficult (simple) reason yet, and decides that he'll take a run to the birdhouse where the Iwaizumis usually end up, rain be damned.

Extra careful on steps. Can't lose another life. Not while Iwaizumi's got so many left, not while he's got six of his own, he needs to conserve them for when they matter the most to lose.

The birdhouse is empty beneath and Tooru parks his butt beneath it, resting the vinyl of the umbrella on his head and staring at ground he can still see from the covering.

Would Iwaizumi be happy to see him waiting here? Would he call him an idiot for coming out every raining day and risk sickness just to see him first? It's the first time he's done this, first time he's kicked against the ground so hard but felt trapped against the earth instead of taking off, and Tooru can't stop thinking about the thundercloud of thoughts he feels drizzling at his skin, how each one feels like a sun shower's kiss and still like the stinging of autumn's rain.

It wasn't _just_ the present then, just like it's not the _present_ now. It was _Iwaizumi_. It's the future he wants to spend with Iwaizumi, rain or shine, friends or more, or anything stupid like that. It keeps him rooted beneath the birdhouse until his phone rings with his mother's tone and he answers airily, pulling himself up and squinting at the sky. Rain, rain, rain. Dreary.

♪

Every day he goes up there to see if Iwaizumi's returned. Even if he's positive he'll be able to _feel_ it like a string tugging him along. Even if every day it seems to rain harder than the last, the air thick with humidity and tension as Tooru sits beneath the birdhouse, playing with the strap on his umbrella and jerking at every sway.

"A place for relaxation and reflection," he murmurs to himself, thinking on the words he'd heard. "I wonder how long you can stay there."

It's a train of thought that leaves him then along with the rolling thunder above, but it's one that'll come back in a few year's time. For now his mind is filled with memories he sits on, the feeling he doesn't want to admit to so readily, and the yearning of seeing Iwaizumi that comes with both.

♪

By day five (still nothing, it's almost an entire week after his birthday and most of the presents he'd gotten are lying untouched across his desk and floor) Tooru has decided that it's okay to like Iwaizumi. Infatuation is fine, it's like a crush, and it's not like anything will change. He'll still be reaching towards the sky and Iwaizumi will continue to tug at his heels, keep him in place with that _worry_ of his, and Tooru realizes he's smiling at the thought, twirling the umbrella lightly.

He picks at the mourning bracelet again, still pristine in an effort to make it seem like he hadn't been wearing it since he got home the first dya he'd come back, and sighs lowly.

This death is something he's going to keep from Iwaizumi. He might start to pity him with his lives almost half over, and that's the _last_ thing Tooru _ever_ wants his friend to do.

♪

Day six of his own time back and a full week after his birthday, Oikawa stands in front of the high hanging birdhouse and smiles at the slowly waking boy in front of him. He wonders what Iwaizumi thought of in there, if he liked spending time in the void or if he was always so eager to return.

"Took you long enough," breezily, a secret affection spreading through him when Iwaizumi looks like he wants to laugh.

"I know." Iwaizumi stays there, looking at him and Tooru looking back, and his tone softens a little. "I know."

Tooru thinks about the five days he's gone without Iwaizumi, thinks about the yearning that had beat his heart into submission and what it meant (even if it's still confusing, honestly, or at least enough he doesn't want to say) and lowers his gaze, lips twitching into a grin. "What were you thinking of in there? Did you imagine yourself winning the lottery?"

He end sit with bubbling laughter that he feels might give away his nervousness, the sudden jitters as he realizes that this is an umbrella for two and he should've brought another one but _didn't_ , and he covers his mouth to try and stifle it a little. Iwaizumi glances at the bracelet but doesn't say anything about it, just looks up at the sky and Tooru resists the urge to do the same.

"I think I was having a nice dream," and Tooru hopes it was about him, even if it probably wasn't, "but I'm back, now."

Iwaizumi is _so close_ and there's such a familiar warmth with being beside him that Tooru forgets his jitters, and learns to breathe, doing just that when he replies. "Good. I was starting to think you wanted to stay on the other side."

"Oh, like I'd ever want that."

Tooru blinks back his surprise. "Why not?"

"The real thing's always better." Iwaizumi unties the twine but it tightens his chest all the same, and Tooru laughs inwardly at the bad luck of it all, of having brightly burning ancestors with no care for the descendants, who only wanted to prove themselves in their life time and died trying.


	36. transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> once upon a time, there was a young prince who read of heroes, of peace, and sought to have that power for himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had a rough weekend. but i'm not worried about it!! i had an enjoyable birthday sunday, got to finish this up today, so with luck the rest of the days will come just as easy. thank you for reading!

Magic always had a physical manifestation, Tooru remembers reading as he touches the mirror's surface just above his head and then patting at the horns themselves. It usually coincided with the type of magic you were learning - which explained why people were drawn to the healy types when they were injured or sick. The soft glow reminds most of warmth and safety. He trails a finger down the lyrate horns and recoils when he hits hair, _his_ hair.

"Iwa-chan won't be happy," he mutters to himself and promptly tosses the concern out of the window. Who cares? They'd said they're overtake the world by storm, lead armies across the land together and make everyone tremble before them.

(The last part is mostly his own flourish of memory. Iwaizumi had agreed to be his commander, that they'd both work hard to get into positions of power and take over the lands, but Tooru knows his friend wouldn't dare risk harm to the people with war. If it was necessary, then fine, let them come.

But Tooru has plans.)

"What the hell are those?" Iwaizumi _isn't_ happy, just like he'd thought. More concerned and curious, he discovers after a quick prod into his friend's head and gets a punch for it. "I told you _not_ to look into my mind, Oikawa. I've got nothing to hide from you."

"Sorry, force of habit." Tooru leans back in his seat and folds his hands together, smile wide and bordering on forced. It's one that his squire friend doesn't like and he knows it. Probably wishing he could read minds too. "How's training?"

"Fine, you _ass--_ " He quiets down and Tooru pulls the hood over his head as a couple of maids come down the hall beside the courtyard, laughing over something, and finishes once they're gone. "You asshole."

"You're so mean, Iwa-chan. Is that any way to treat the prince who's so graciously let you learn under the tutelage of the best swordsman around?"

Iwaizumi snorts, leaning back with his hands behind his head and an amused smirk plastered wide against his face. Tooru likes it a lot. "It's your parents who've let me, _your highness_."

"My kind, gracious, too good for this world parents." He loves them very much, but they're in the way of his plans. "Are you planning on taking the title of best around too, Iwa-chan?"

Of course. Tooru knows he is, doesn't need to see the nod or prod his mind for the answer, because even if it wasn't for their future plans he would. Iwaizumi's just that kind of person. The wind caresses the new additions to his body and it brings the conversation back around, the other's face hardening with a scowl as he opens his mouth--

"Just a side-effect, Iwa-chan," Tooru murmurs, laying his hand on the table and sliding it across til his fingertips press against Iwaizumi's clenched fist. "It's nothing to worry about. I'll glamour them so no one can tell."

The hand stays tense even when he cups it in his own and rubs the back with his thumb, smiling half-sincerely. It only relaxes when Tooru promises to let Iwaizumi take a look at what he's learning and decides that hiding the more nefarious books is probably a good idea, topics switching to swordplay and how much longer he's got to go before he's knighted.

Personally, he wants to knight Iwaizumi _himself_. But it's fine if he can't. His parents won't die that soon and at this age he'd have someone holding his hand in ruling anyway, maybe the Grand Advisor Irihata. He thinks of his older sister in lands far away and wonders if they'd call her back to rule, or her husband to pick up where Tooru's father left off. That'd be bad too. The kingdoms were already fighting among themselves, squabbles here and there, and - no offense to his sister's taste in men - Yuuki just wouldn't cut it. Not here in lands not his own.

No. It'd have to be Tooru himself who drew the kingdoms together, who unified everyone under one rule, and it had to be Iwaizumi who was at his side.

 

The horns continue to grow, inching up with every month spent tirelessly searching for more power, and when Iwaizumi points it out he feigns surprise and pats them, humming.

"I guess they have. Do you think they'll stop growing, Iwa-chan? It'll be hard to wear a crown like this."

"... Maybe," his newly appointed knight says, clearly not believing it either. When Iwaizumi touches them, trails from the pointed tip to his cheek, Tooru's suffocated by his friend's intense eyes and barely registers the question even reading his cracked lips. "You're definitely not getting over your head with this magic study?"

"Definitely not." His words feel faraway. Iwaizumi's brows draw together and he sits back, crossing his arms as he stares wordlessly at him. The prince swallows, looks at a point over the knight's shoulder, and is too thankful that Iwaizumi can't read his mind. "I promise, Iwa-chan. It's not like before."

When he first got into it, when Kageyama Tobio turned up and was found to excel in everything his cousin practiced even at such a young age. Their grandfather might be the same but Tooru feels like they couldn't be more different.

Iwaizumi eyes him warily and he straightens, a gentle reminder of _who_ the knight's looking at in the proud tilt of his head that's blatantly ignored in favor of just being _friends_. Status only mattered in public. Not here in the privacy of the gardens, nor in either of their respective chambers. Birds sing their songs the longer the silence goes on and finally the other relents, reclining back into the chair with a sigh.

"I'm trusting you, Oikawa. Magic is something only _you_ can do," and even if the prince knows this already it being said sends an electric rush through him, "so I don't want to find you blowing yourself down to hell just because you can or because you feel like you need to."

Tooru's mouth involuntarily quirks up and he frames his face with his hands, voice dropping into something softer. "You'll drag me right back, won't you?"

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and chides him for causing more trouble, but there's not a doubt in the royal's mind about the answer every time.

 

"You look like _shit_."

Tooru lifts his head to look at the doorway, dropping it back down with a groan.

"Shut up, Iwa-chan. I got caught up in a book and passed out." It's not untrue, but there's more to it. Iwaizumi scrutinizes the room and he knows he's two seconds from saying something about it when the other exhales and lets it go, shaking his head.

"Her Majesty wanted me to fetch you since you're late for your next batch of suitors." And he has the _nerve_ to laugh at Tooru's scrunched face, how rude. The knight pulls him up and everywhere the hands land feels warm, like Iwaizumi's got a magic of his own. He wonders if there's a cure all for the sick feeling in his stomach. "I think you've got ten minutes."

"I'll take ten hours."

They settle under his arms and he's lifted up, thrown into bed instead of his closet, and he can't hide his surprise at Iwaizumi's decision.

"My first priority is to you, Oikawa." Like it's a vow all over again, and Tooru's throat tightens. Iwaizumi reaches over and pats the space between his horns, letting his hand rest there comfortingly. "You'll scare away all the princesses looking like that anyway."

Tooru feels laughter bubbling up and he lets it out, dropping backwards onto the bed and grabbing Iwaizumi's hand before it withdraws, squeezing tight. "I don't see how you haven't done that already, Iwa-chan," but it's full of affection and he's too tired to hide anything right now, staring at the other with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.

The knight seems tense and all at once it drops away with a roll of his eyes, returning the squeeze. "I'll see about Her Majesty letting you have the day off."

"Thank you, Iwa-chan. Come back here when you're done and sleep with me."

Iwaizumi's hand slips from his as he curls up, still fully clothed and darkness creeping into his slumber.

 

Tooru wakes up, vaguely aware of his surroundings and how lacking in Iwaizumi it is. He doesn't realize the book's gone until he's up and stumbling to his desk to check the time, hand slamming onto the empty space.

Oh.

Oh, _no_.

He tears out his room so fast he forgets to throw on a glamour charm for his horns, but that doesn't matter. There's no one around right now anyway. Not up here.

He slips across the corridors and just _barely_ remembers to pull up his hood when he hits the outside chill, autumn biting into his cheeks as he passes concerned guards and heads right for Iwaizumi's quarters.

"Iwa-chan!" Door thrown open, Tooru finally realizes how much his chest is burning and the coil of dread that's worked its way around him isn't helping. The knight looks up, page between his fingers and he flips it slowly. Expectant. Tooru's grip on the doorway tightens and he forces himself in, shuts the door and presses back against it.

Nothing. Iwaizumi doesn't know how to read the magical language itself, not how to pull enchantments from the book like Tooru does, but he knows enough to probably figure out what and why.

"... Iwa-chan," he says softer, but stays by the door. "You're not mad, are you?"

 _Not that it matters,_ a voice pipes up in his mind. Tooru has to agree. It was _necessary_. All of this was.

"Be honest. Is this dangerous? Is it what gave you those-- those _horns_?" Disgust. Anger. He starts to recoil and feels the hard wood at his back, stopping his progress. Iwaizumi approaches him with book clenched in hand. "Answer me, Oikawa!"

Tooru stares at him, chided, and averts his eyes as he replies quietly. "You know the answer."

It's dangerous. The book more or less _reeks_ of darkness, and the prince's gaze flicks back to his friend. There's anger. Concern. Worry. Hurt? Maybe fear, just a small flame of it, because Iwaizumi's always scared when Tooru gets in over his head. It's never a fear born for his own safety but for others, and Tooru kind of wishes that it'd stay strictly for him and just him. The world would become peaceful once it was under one rule (no matter the cost, the consequence) so there was no reason to fear.

"Iwa-chan," he starts again, and the name's imbued with a bit of magic he learned last night to dull the senses and soothe beasts. It works like a charm and Iwaizumi slumps slightly, not resist when Tooru cups his face and brings him closer, presses their foreheads together and breathing against the other's lip. "It'll be okay, I promise. It's nothing I can't handle. It'll be worth it in the end."

"Even if it's the end of _you_?" A quiet challenge, the usually hard glint in Iwaizumi's gaze is something soft with the spell's help, and it tugs at Tooru's chest. "You're such an idiot."

"I'm _your_ idiot," just as quiet, and there's no resistance when he takes the book away. They're still so close. A keen yearning swallows him up and almost pushes him forward, but common sense is a well planned boat that pulls him to the side and away from the temptation. He clutches the book to his chest to keep his heart inside. It wouldn't be satisfying if it was the spell's fault. No, that'd be bad, it'd eat him up, he knows that.

Iwaizumi sighs. _Sighs_ , the kind that relents not because Tooru's right, not because he's giving up, but because he's backing off now with the intention of returning to it later. "You've been _my_ idiot for years now, but that doesn't mean I can't call you out on it."

Tooru smiles and draws his friend to the lumpy, uncomfortable bed he really wants to replace, hoping that the spell wears off soon yet hoping that it never does at the same time. "Well, I'll tell you what I've been learning." Swallows hard, squeezes Iwaizumi's hand. " _Everything._ "

"Promise?"

"Promise," a lie between his teeth, suddenly thankful for the charm that's dulled Iwaizumi's ability to call him out on his shit, and he wills his hands not to shake too much when he opens the book and feels every tendril of magic ghost across his bare hands. They're searingly cold, chillingly hot, and Tooru exhales softly as they probe into his mind as they did last night.

The scariest part about magic is that while it takes on a physical manifestation, the mental parts of it don't have a voice you'd think of talking to you. It's always one you know. Tooru's heard of them being anything from a mother's to a loved one's, whatever's strongest when thinking about what the magic's going to be used for, which is why it's always been a hair raising experience to hear a mockery of his _own_ speaking loudly, always asking _What do you seek?_ in a calm, arrogant tone.

 _Nothing right now_ , he replies quietly. _We'll talk later._

His voice laughs and it takes every bit of effort not to just slam the book shut, lest Iwaizumi'd realize his fear. No. It was fine. This was necessary.

"Is everything alright?" Tooru jumps a little, instantly clearing out all thoughts _just in case_ Iwaizumi can read actually read minds, and nods.

"Perfectly okay~." He presses the book flat and trails a finger on the runes, feeling the magic wriggle beneath the tip. "Now, be very attentive, Iwa-chan. I'll explain slowly just for you."

 

The red eyes are new. But he's growing accustomed to new things, like how the voice so like his own has made a home in the back of his mind, pointing out this and that, goading him into trying new things with magic. Teaching him further. Honestly Tooru thinks he might have a demon infecting him now, but if that means more power then that's fine. All it's doing is granting him what he wants in exchange for a body to reside in. A pretty sweet deal all things considering.

The eyes're probably just a side effect of that.

Iwaizumi, as predicted, is a little more wary of it. "Your eyes--"

"Are the most beautiful, glimmering gems you've ever seen, right?" Tooru laughs loudly, brushing off the concern, and grins with a secret behind his pressed lips. "It's just another magic thing, Iwa-chan. Like the horns."

"Like the horns."

He nods, grabbing at Iwaizumi's hand and swinging it merrily. "Lately, I've felt so good. Like I can do anything. I don't mind if I grow horns, claws, or even wings! It's not so bad, Iwa-chan."

"You're not worried you're going too far with this?" Iwaizumi doesn't _stop_ their hands from moving, but he tugs Tooru closer for privacy's sake. It still warms him at the drop of a hat. "What if you turn into a monster?"

There's still the question of _How did you get enough magic to do this in the first place?_ hanging over their heads, but the prince ignores it. It's the demon's fault. But Iwaizumi doesn't need to know that.

"The only time I'll be a _monster_ towards by our enemies, Iwa-chan." An idea strikes him and he leans closer, pretending there's not discomfort on his friend's face as he whispers lightly. "You don't think I'm a monster, do you?"

"Of course not. You're just a _idiot_."

"Then there's nothing to fear. It'll be fine, okay?"

But at this point, Iwaizumi seems less likely to believe him. Tooru shrugs it off and thinks about everything else that demon's opened up for him, how the world feels at his fingers, and how much longer he'll have to wait until the people grow weary of his parent's oddly high taxing. That'll be when he goes against them and usurps the throne, when the people will have the wool shoved over their eyes about the scandal, when he'll march his armies across the land to _unite it all_ \--

And when he'll be the self-appointed ruler of the world, to keep peace and order under his own rules.

_No one can else can do it, after all._


	37. tremble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the poor dog was just so _pathetic_ , you know? half dead looking. tired, unwell, a total let down.
> 
> oikawa decides the pros out weight the cons when it comes to adopting a stray and gets a hell of a lot more than he bargained for.

It's such a sad, pathetic looking thing. On the last legs of its strength too if its soft growl is anything to go by, and while Oikawa wouldn't really think twice of a stray animal - there was always someone else to take care of it - this dog has a defiance in its eyes that speaks to his own heart, and he comes back armed with cubed steak to gain its trust.

"Here puppy, who's a handsome... boy?" The dog's black lips curl into a weak snarl and Oikawa thinks it might be more because he's treating it like a puppy than it is because he called it a boy. He tosses a cube in front of the dog and it leans down, sniffing suspiciously. Then looks back up at Oikawa. The man sighs, resting his chin on his palm. "I'm not gonna bite into it for you to prove it's not poisoned, puppy. Raw meat baaaad for humans."

The dog chuffs like it's laughing and stares at the meat, reluctantly taking it into its mouth and snapping it down. And returns to staring at Oikawa.

"Want more?"

Animals don't have facial expressions, but this one clearly says _duh_. Oikawa scowls at the dog and tosses another, closer to him. The dog responds by just coming up to sit in front of him and wait for another cube.

"You're not really a stray, are you?" Oikawa asks, hesitantly petting the matted fur and getting silence as his reply. He squints his eyes and lets the animal have the rest of the meat. Huh. But there's no collar or anything like that either. Not as far as he can see. "Wanna come home with me, doggie? I'll give you a bath, feed you as much as you can eat, and you can stay the night."

The dog finishes the meat and trots after Oikawa when he moves, sending a flutter of childish anticipation into his twenty-two year old heart. He'd never had a pet as a child - mom and sis had allergies, even if he was perfectly fine - and the chance to have one now put a grin on his face that not even the impeding thought of _finals_ around the corner could diminish his mood.

"You're such a handsome dog," he tells the animal after a good bath, and means it. The dog (a boy) is a jet black mix (maybe?) with medium-length fur and the most strikingly pretty dark eyes. Like the night sky. But without the stars. Oikawa's wrapped some gauze around the scrapes and minor cuts the dog's obtained from living on the street... but it doesn't seem like Doggy's been living that long there. Too well-nourished. And big.

Very, very big.

Like, do dogs really get this big?

He doesn't know. But it's late and avoiding studies is _exactly_ why he went out for a walk in the first place, so now he's avoiding them by brushing his new pal (which is _barely tolerated_ , judging from the glare) and then making a nice space on the ground for his guest--

Which is absolutely ignored, because Doggy jumps right into Oikawa's bed and settles down, and _that's_ when Oikawa realizes just how _massive_ his new dog is.

"You're _huge_ , Doggy!"

Huff.

"We're not both going to be able to fit, you know."

 _That's your problem,_ the dark eyes tell him as the dog settles down. Oikawa doesn't like having a pet, suddenly, but his fears of having to sleep on the ground are unfounded when he climbs into bed with the dog and is welcomed with a single lick as if to say _it's okay_ and finds himself very, _very_ comfortable laying with the dog. The shampoo he'd bought on the way smells nice, Doggy's fur is soft and thick, and the warmth is so much that he's out before he realizes that a dog probably _shouldn't_ be this hot.

 

With the shrill beeping of his alarm, Oikawa becomes aware of several things.

1\. He is very, _very_ hot. Like, uncomfortably so. In a temperature way.

2\. There's no fur beneath his cheek. It's skin. Tan, taunt, and judging by the rise and fall, the stuttering heartbeat beneath his ear, it's a chest.

3\. The man holding him is very, _very_ hot. Like, uncomfortably so. In a physical way.

His screams match the alarm in volume but do a _way_ better job of waking the stranger up, even if the man's first reaction isn't to pull away but to push closer with a growled: "Shut _up_ , dammit."

Oikawa's not really sure what the proper reaction _is_ , but he shuts up immediately and reaches over to turn off the clock too, staring at the new sight. Tan. Dark hair not just on his head, it's a little thicker on his arms and (Oikawa swallows _hard_ , eyes trailing down the nice pecs and abs of his bed mate) treasure trail. His toes curl and he doesn't know if he should call the cops or enjoy the view.

The decision is made for him when the other pulls him closer and nuzzles into his neck, trapping him in _unbearable heat_.

"Get off of me! Who are you, anyway?! How'd you get in here?!"

"I came home with you." The man moves back enough to look Oikawa in the eyes and he feels like he knows them, an itch in the back of his head as he tries to remember if he did bring home a treat last night and coming up empty. "Name's Iwaizumi."

"The only thing that came home with me last night was..."

The dog.

The man-- dog??-- what was his name, ah, Iwaizumi! Iwaizumi nods with an amused quirk and pulls back, the blanket resting dangerously low against his hips as he stretches. Oikawa snaps his mouth shut and opens it again, only to close it once more.

"You're... the dog I brought home. Really?"

"Really."

"Huh." He sits back, staring at Iwaizumi, and lifts the blankets enough to peek under. "You're really all human though..."

"Half human," Iwaizumi corrects, tugging the blanket back down with an uncomfortable look.

Weredog? Is that what they were called? Well, considering the size... probably a were _wolf_. Oikawa nods slowly, then gets up and decides that pretending that last night and the morning might be a solid choice of action. No need to get the cops involved with something that's obviously just a fever dream. Yup. Just go through the motions, and by the time he gets back to pick up his bags to go to class Iwaizumi will be

right where he left him, dozing in the light of morning. Oikawa rubs his face, wonders if it's too early to drink, and goes to make a quick breakfast to leave behind for his... guest. Pet. Person.

 

When Oikawa returns home - early evening, hoping that it really was just a bad dream - it's tidy and Iwaizumi's sitting on his mistake of a purchase (couch), cup of tea in hand as he watches the news in what Oikawa's 95% sure is the shirt that's too small for the broad shouldered man that he got from a concert and sweats that fit nice. It's very domestic. Very nice. A welcome sight, if Oikawa didn't remember that this guy's a stranger who was _the dog that came home with him last night_.

He clears his throat softly and catches the attention of Iwaizumi so quickly there's no doubt about about his keen hearing. A little research revealed they had a higher body temperature than normal too, which explained that. Never said anything about physical appearance though.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"... As long as you let me." Iwaizumi turns his attention back to the TV, barely keeping a grin in check. "I mean, _you're_ the one who claimed I was gonna be your precious pet."

Oikawa burns up, groaning as he stalks past the cackling hound into his room and shuts the door. A werewolf. A _werewolf_ is now his roommate/pet.

 _... Well, it could probably be worse,_ he thinks to himself. _He_ could _be ugly. And if he's my pet..._

He grins widely, peeking out out his room with a fountain of excitement burbling in his tone. "In thaaaat case, you're more than welcome to stay with me~, Iwa-chan!"

Iwaizumi stands up with such a force is shakes the TV, "-- What the _hell_ did you call me?!"

"That's your name now," Oikawa pipes up, too giddy for his own good. "Iwa-chan~. My precious pet."

Iwaizumi's mouth pulls back into a snarl but he slams back down onto the couch, displeasure coming off in waves. Oikawa just smiles and keeps the door open this time, more happy than he'd like to admit that there's noise in the unit now.

Werewolf, whatever. He didn't seem dangerous. Oikawa decides he can deal with the worse consequences when they come up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to say _thank you_ for 400 kudos!! that's amazing to me, ahhh, i never thought a story collection would get so much... so thanks!!


	38. mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _just what kind of ace am i?!_
> 
>  
> 
> the words rang out in iwaizumi's mind even now, even after they'd been forced to move on and train on their own time. so he just practices harder, runs more, fear snapping at his heels as it laughs and says _you're always trying to catch up_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually tomorrow's prompt but i decided to switch it and sunset since i had an easy time with it!! easy/fun time, anyway, heheh

"Are you _stupid_?!"

_It's a real switch_ , Iwaizumi thinks as he's shoved against the bedroom wall and staring coolly at his furious best friend. Oikawa's eyes are wide and his face is a patchy red that, at any other point of their life, might've been reserved for crying fits or overworking during private practices. The latter being their topic of discussion.

The taller man doesn't drop his shaking hands from Iwaizumi's shoulders like he thought he would; he tightens his grip, brings himself closer in the tense silence, and Iwaizumi feels fondness swell slightly at the tears struggling not to fall.

_Once a crybaby, always a crybaby,_ but this time he doesn't wipe them away.

"Iwa-chan, you can't be serious that you don't see how this is hypocritical of you." The anger doesn't cool, but Oikawa's features soften into hurt and he rests forward with their foreheads pressed. "You don't have to work super hard to get where you think I am. You're already there and always have been."

"Because you've always waited for me," he snaps back, heat flaring across his neck and fists clenching. Oikawa looks struck. _Good_. "I love volleyball just as much as you do, but you've always been ahead of everyone else! You can't say you didn't know that either, Oikawa, you _know_ how good you are."

Even if he underestimates it sometimes, puts it down as being _modest_ or _humble_ when all it is is _fear_ of having too much confidence and getting trapped in a situation with his own pride again.

"And your skill is what helps your team," he continues before Oikawa can _begin_ to deny it. "The rest of us are the ones who've got to improve for _you_."

It's always been like that. Iwaizumi thinks that maybe Oikawa likes it like that, everyone being a step behind him, like a safety net. No one who could surpass him. Oikawa presses his lips in a line and he draws away, shaking. Huffs, then inhales sharply, and meets Iwaizumi's gaze unblinking.

"After we lost to Karasuno, Ushiwaka found me looking for the rest of you and we had a talk." Iwaizumi tenses up at the slow, deliberateness of it, the understanding and disappointment in those eyes. "I don't care to remember most of it - it makes me irritated just thinking about how carelessly he treated you all - but the meat of it was that he was the best and yadda yadda, _you should've come to Shiratorizawa, Oikawa, you made a mistake_."

The impression would be laughable if it wasn't such a tense situation.

"I know Seijou isn't the strongest. I know if I wanted a high guarantee to win, to go to nationals, I should've gone with Shiratorizawa. If you can't beat them, join them, right?" Oikawa pauses, gauging the tenseness of his shoulders, the gritting teeth behind pressed lips, and breathes out to calm himself. Or try to. But there's still that flame burning bright in his eyes that sets Iwaizumi on edge, makes him think there's a fight coming, and he'd rather be the one at Oikawa's back than in front of him. "Well, obviously fuck _that_ ," and he snorts at the surprise on Iwaizumi's face at the heavy curse, trying not to grin, "because Seijou has never, not _once_ been anything but a joy to me. It might not be the strongest, but that never meant that it couldn't _become_ the strongest. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to help to that end."

It's not self-deprecating or modest, it's an honest admittance, and Iwaizumi finds himself at a loss for words. Rather, he's got a lot to say, but he doesn't know which first or what would be best. But in all things between them the brunet picks up the torch and holds it high, speaking softly.

"You can work all you want, Iwa-chan. I'm not saying you shouldn't. Self-improvement is the best thing in the world, but taking it to this level... _You_ of all people know that it won't do anything but hurt in the long run."

"I really hate that I'm getting _this_ talk from _you_ of all people," Iwaizumi grumbles, but feels a weight lift from his shoulders that's not just Oikawa hand's moving to hold his own. They're rough and calloused like his, but the slender fingers are practically _crafted_ to set a toss fit for each spiker he meets. The setter hums in acknowledgement, the fire dying to embers that only need to be stirred to inflame again, and a sigh forces its way out of Iwaizumi's mouth. "... What'd you tell Ushiwaka?"

"That he should keep his eyes ahead." Oikawa's lips quirk up and he leans closer, brushing noses with him, breathing mint against his skin with a smug tone. "And that he should remember my worthless pride."

"You would." Iwaizumi lets it linger for a moment and lets out the held breath, resting his head back against the wall and being oddly thankful that their discussion about universities had gone this far, after weeks of held breathes and silences on the topic, letter after letter piling up on Oikawa's desk and a fair amount hidden at his own home.

Oikawa draws away and shifts through the envelopes, holding one up. "So, keeping in mind that not only will I have to keep in mind the university that blockhead will accept but how I even have to keep an eye on _you_ , Iwaizumi Hajime, may I put this on the table?"

"You don't need to keep an eye on me." Even if the persistent twinge pain in his shoulder, the soreness of his muscles with every step, the shake in his hand when he reaches for the envelope says otherwise. It's identical to one he'd been accepted to too and Oikawa looks at him with warm, knowing eyes as he tosses it back. "I still can't believe you got in with _those_ test scores of yours."

"Volleyball and a charming smile will bring me the best in life, Iwa-chan. I'll be depending on your expert tutoring~."

"Depend on yourself for once, dumbass," Iwaizumi laughs, mussing up his best friend's hair and smirking at the complaints. "Put all that drive you have for sports into studying once in a while and you won't need my help."

Oikawa grins back cheekily but doesn't say anything to that, already set on bothering the other for the next chapter of their lives.


	39. sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in a world of dying tomorrows, there's always today

"Do you think we'll get many more like these, Iwa-chan?"

With the sky so clear, the air clean enough there's no need for a mask of any kind, the deep hues of reds and yellows and oranges not because of fires across the city but the one setting in the sky. Tooru feels a sense of sentimentality and thinks he deserves it after spending a few years in this wasteland he called home.

When there's no response he turns to look at his friend, smile waning at the sight of Iwaizumi stilled. He slinks closer and presses his ear against the slow rise and fall of his chest, exhaling quietly when the heartbeat's still strong. Tooru slumps against his friend and tugs Iwaizumi's arm over his shoulder, offering a feeble warmth and comfort in the coming night.

"I hope we do. Call me sentimental, naive, whatever... But the world was pretty once and it'll get back there. Won't it?" Iwaizumi blows out with a slight snore. Tooru smiles and wills himself to stay awake, even if the safety of his partner's arm tempts him to sleep too. "We'll have all kinds of mornings, Iwa-chan, sunsets and chances to lay and look at the stars like we used to. We won't have to worry about infected or looters or anything like that."

The sun sinks behind the last of the buildings, leaving the sky with darkening shades dipping into purples and blues like the ugly bruises across their bodies and Tooru hefts himself up, stirring up a small fire to begin the night. In three more hours he'd have to wake Iwaizumi and go to sleep himself, but a selfish part of him wants to linger long enough to have a talk and point out the constellations they can see now that electricity's been diverted to more important refuges. Iwaizumi wouldn't let him though. He sighs, scoots back into the other's arms, and keeps an ear out for the telltale sounds of scratching and crumbling down below, fighting a smile when the arm tightens around him.

"... You move too much," Iwaizumi grumbles, half awake as he squints in the dimming light. "Stay still."

"Sorry."

Shakes his head and pulls Tooru closer, nuzzling into the chestnut hair with an amused huff. "You're not sorry."

Because moving means you're alive, and Tooru's fidgeting is a happy constant. Iwaizumi's got his own form of it but it's not as bad as his, even if there's a level of performance when they meet other survivors.

 _Is he okay?_ They'd ask. Tooru would grin widely, fiddling with his survival knife like it was his safety net, and Iwaizumi always glanced at him with a knowing look and a nod.

 _Yeah,_ he'd reply. _Just a little..._ nervous _around other people._

The other survivors were always wary then, put on edge by Tooru's act, and ended up leaving them alone. Large groups moving around were easy targets and very few people staying too long in one spot was just stupid. So it worked out.

"Iwa-chan?" A sleepy hum. "I love you."

Even half asleep Iwaizumi groans and pinches his arm, but Tooru knows that he's flushed as always.

"Shut up. Wake me when you need to or if we've gotta move."

He knows, he knows. Takes Iwaizumi's hand and kisses the bandaged back of it, relaxing back to spend the next three hours calming himself with the soft even breathing that'll always be there.

The world might be hell and fraying at the ends, but Tooru would ensure that small happiness at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i wrote this at around 4 am and fixed it up today
> 
> but i've always been a fan of zombie aus and dying light with dying futures is possibly my favorite thing


	40. thousand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> origami is a strictly land-based activity but damn if oikawa's not gonna find someway to bring it undersea
> 
> also, humans are unfairly attractive when they're not fumbling in the water

Iwaizumi has very deft fingers, Tooru notices as he's beached on the speckled sand. They're kind of thick and rough, calloused from some manual labor aside from fishing, but they're very skilled in what they do. He imagines them against his tail for a moment, pressing deep into the muscle and drawing up, and _shivers_ ; it's worse when his next thought of them inside and the thickness becomes something lewder.

The resulting groan catches the attention of his human companion and he buries his face into the damp sand more, waving a hand. "Nothing, nothing. I'm just remembering something." He lifts his head and rests his cheek on his arms, watching Iwaizumi fold the paper carefully into small sailboats doomed to sink at sea. The other's giving him a curious look - but he knows better than to ask about sea business. He won't get an answer. "Iwa-chan, how is it that you can do such delicate work with such brutal hands?"

"How is it you can ask such stupid question when you're supposed to be smarter than my kind?"

Tooru throws a handful of the wet sand at him and only succeeds in getting a few drops from the oozing pile onto the human, scowling gently at the laughter. He harrumphs, settles back down, and watches quietly as Iwaizumi starts on a new project. Fish. "... Still, I'm surprised you're able to make such delicate looking things like that. Humans have always seemed so clumsy to me."

"In water, maybe, but we're pretty damn good on land." He sets the angelfish down in front of Tooru's face and the merman studies it. "Just like how you're totally useless on shore."

"-- Hey! I'm not _totally_ useless." Iwaizumi raises a brow and Tooru flushes at the quirk of his lip (this human is getting _too attractive_ ), fanning himself out more. "I'm _pretty_."

"Ha! Yeah, alright, sure."

The merman settles into the sand and watches the other work quietly, the sounds of the waves shifting against the shore their only companion. He turns his gaze to the fish and admires it without critique this time, the patterned surface a lot like the clothing women donned during the new year. _It's pretty,_ so pretty, but there's no way he could bring it below with him.

"Hey, Iwa-chan..."

Iwaizumi grunts beside him, setting a flowery koi down and giving Tooru something new to yearn for.

"Do you think you could find a way for me to take these beneath the sea, too?" The shift of paper stops but he doesn't tear his eyes from the colors, noting each clean line and the small wrinkles on the origami work. So not even Iwaizumi's without fault there. "They _are_ very pretty. But they'll be ruined if I bring them home."

"... I can think of something," he finally answers. "Gramps used to put beeswax on the boats to help them float, so it's possible."

 _It's possible_ , Tooru grins, delicately taking the simple koi by the tail and making it swim on the sand's surface. _Humans are amazing._

 

Iwaizumi returns the next day with a bag he doesn't let Tooru touch. The only things he recognizes are the patterned papers themselves and two books to press on (does he get to do it too today?), the other items being some strong smelling bottles and a small brush. When asked, the human tells him "You'll see" with that secret lift of his lips that makes the waves feel even colder against his skin.

Turns out that yes, Tooru gets to learn and do this time. "Because _otherwise_ you'll bother me forever to make you more," is the reason, even if he thinks that Iwaizumi might just enjoy an excuse to tease and scold Tooru for mistakes.

He doesn't mind. Iwaizumi's hands are hot on his when they maneuver each fold carefully, from boats to the fish from yesterday. He thinks again of their deftness and gentleness when dealing with delicate origami and wonders if he'd get the same kindness if he asked. Probably not. It's not a matter of delicacy, it's a matter of attachment, and Tooru knows he shouldn't treat a human with the care reserved for his own kind but Iwaizumi's so-- he's just--

Iwaizumi's _wonderful_.

Even beyond the fact he's one of the things that fascinates Tooru so much. Humans are still interesting, he likes watching them from afar with his growing knowledge of their daily lives, but when he's with Iwaizumi all he wants to do is touch and be touched, press close and rile him red. Maybe it's because Iwaizumi's the first human he's gotten so close to. Maybe because he's infatuated with him. Maybe this, maybe that, but Tooru's just certain that he's making purposeful mistakes to get Iwaizumi's hands on him again and Iwaizumi doesn't exactly seem to mind that.

"There's some old story about if you make a thousand paper cranes," a piece Tooru's finding himself struggling with to make it as crisp as Iwaizumi's, "then your wish'll come true. A lot of shrines put them up during New Year's for good fortune."

"Mm, well, that's nice and all, but cranes don't live under the sea. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen one. What're they like?"

"Big white birds that have long stick legs."

Tooru presses the final fold flat without Iwaizumi's help this time, hands beginning to get the hang of it, and lifts the bird proudly. It might be his best today. "They don't sound half as pretty as me."

"Is that how you're always going to compare things?" Like there's actually a problem with it. Iwaizumi takes the bird and sets it aside, passing over another sheet. "... They're not, but they're definitely ten times more graceful."

"I am perfectly graceful!" Iwaizumi snorts and the merman presses harder on the folds, scowling at the heat in his cheeks. "In the water, anyway."

He stifles laughter and lets Tooru finish the next crane, plucking it from his hands and drawing over the bottles. The merman looks at them them curiously, even more perplexed when the brush comes into play, and shivers as Iwaizumi guides the soft bristle across his tail experimentally. It leaves a trail of embers between his scales that can't even be extinguished by the next wave that rolls across him.

And it stays there as he watches that same brush lick at the origami they've done, coating them one by one with some kind of substance he's told is a finish of a kind and then once more when they've been dried by the sun. It's an itch he scratches distractedly, trying to recreate the sensation with his fingertips and failing, and he laughs it off when Iwaizumi asks if merfolk can get itchy.

"Like anyone else! Usually a wander's itch, but even we get stuff that bothers our scales." Though Tooru's pretty sure his isn't anything like the latter, digging his hand into the sand at the sight of the raised brush. "A lot of it's when we're growing up though. New scales _always_ feel a little funny."

"Are _you_ done growing?"

"Yup. This is as long as I'll be for the rest of my life~," and he stretches out more to touch the refreshing wave and cool sand to show it off, grinning lightly. As long as that brush stays away he's fine. Peachy keen. Perfect.

"You really are just a big fish," Iwaizumi comments wonderingly and scoots away when he's swatted with a huff from the other. He takes one of the boats they'd made and hands it to Tooru, motioning to the ocean. "Go ahead and see if it sails."

Would it really? It wasn't like that stuff would really work, or so he presumes until he draws the boat back to the ocean with him and inhales deeply when it glides into the water with him, floating as well as any real ship. He doesn't even hear Iwaizumi's laughter or register the dark eyes watching him as he plays with the ship, marveling quietly as he sets its course with gentle waves from his tail.

"So I'll really be able to take those under with me?"

"They might float, but yeah. Probably," he tacks on, not wanting to take full responsibility. 

Tooru grins widely, pushing himself onto land enough to throw his arms around the human's waist and giggle loudly into his back. He feels positively _intoxicated_ , swallowing hard and squeezing the other as he breathes out his words. "Thanks, Iwa-chan. I'll bring something back for you tomorrow."

Iwaizumi grunts, sweeping the finished origami into the wave's awaiting embrace and craning over to make more. Tooru rests against the heat for a little longer, lingering as much as he can, and slips back into the sea when the human peels his fingers away, testing out the waterability of the fish.

They do float.

Which is fine! It just means that once Iwaizumi's created a line of koi Tooru gets to command him to put them in a net he can drag down with him. The fisherman rolls his eyes but goes to fetch one anyway, not bothering to sit down again since he's gotta haul in a catch for the day, and Tooru makes sure there's _twice_ as many fish as usual before heading home with a song spilling from his heart to across the sea's berth.

 

It's difficult to string them together, but he manages it in secrecy throughout the night.

"A shame you'll have to be my secret," he murmurs to them, "I think you'd be pretty popular with everyone."

The koi sway from side to side in the soft current flowing through his open room and Tooru grins, wrapping himself in the twine's long thread happily. His secret.

Just like Iwaizumi, all his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought, "thousand, huh! like the thousand paper cranes!" but instead it turned out like this... a thousand origami fish swimming beneath the sea on strings of pearl hung with care~ how cute~
> 
> [boats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRgwjgwvsIM) and [fish](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmUAg4pNB6Q) are both pretty simple, and you _can_ make them [waterproof](http://origami.about.com/od/Origami-Decorations/fl/How-to-Make-Waterproof-Origami.htm) with various methods, tho the one iwaizumi uses it more like [this](http://howaboutorange.blogspot.com/2012/09/using-polycrylic-coating-on-origami.html) to retain its flexibility underwater... origami holds a special place in my heart because a friend taught me it and (though it was frustrating bc i have clumsy fingers) i became pretty good at flapping cranes!! it's really fun and relaxing if you need something to occupy your hands


	41. just because you're used to something doesn't mean you have to like it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's plenty of shrines in the city, each with their own protectors and blessings, yet iwaizumi finds himself drawn to this one every time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a small snippet of something i'm hoping will be much bigger

The fox looks clearly uncomfortable with Iwaizumi being so familiar with the shrine, thanking him quietly for the offered tea and keeping his tails close by. They thump softly on the wood from time to time, almost like a nervous tic, and curl into luscious swirls when Oikawa speaks.

"You've been coming here for a while now, haven't you Iwa-chan." It's not a question but he nods anyway, the usual correction of _Iwaizumi_ held in place. "It isn't like you live anywhere close by," he continues, drawing the words out deliberately, "so I'm a little curious as to why you keeping coming here."

"Because no one really comes to visit you, right?" Iwaizumi wills himself not to feel embarrassed and succeeds only because the other's tails jerk and curl tighter together, distracting him. "I hear that gods - even small time ones like you - can turn into demons. And I'd really rather deal with an annoyance like you than something too powerful to kill."

Oikawa seems a little disappointed for some reason, but it's washed away by the next sip of tea and settles into his usual impassive smile. It's charming, curled at the edges like he knows something Iwaizumi doesn't, but at this point he's so used to it it's just _annoying_.

"Ah, well. That's true. But I am no more a god than you are a demon hunter, Iwa-chan. Only a messenger and at times a protector."

He draws himself up high as he stands, padding barefoot to stand by the open door of the shrine with his clay cup. Iwaizumi watches him at first but turns his attention to the lowered tails, curling restlessly into each other and then against the cleaned wood.

Definitely a nervous tic.

Oikawa looks over his shoulder at him, the paleness of the cloth matching the pallor of his cheeks, and his eyes crease when he smiles. "Iwa-chan, you know you don't need to visit me every day, right? I've lived on my own for hundreds of years, I'm used to it."

_But that doesn't mean you like it_ , Iwaizumi traps the words behind pursed lips and goes to stand beside him instead, glaring half-heartedly at his companion. Not his place to talk so presumptuously to such an old spirit. Even if Oikawa wouldn't hurt him (probably) the kitsune seemed on edge recently and it was starting to infect him too.

"I feel like if I left you at this point you'd hunt me down and take me back anyway," he grumbles, ducking his head away when Oikawa laughs brightly and means every sound. "What's with the change of heart? It's not like you to be so..."

_Absent,_ but that doesn't feel right. Muted, maybe. Dulled. Something like that. Oikawa shrugs and Iwaizumi flinches when a few tails brush against his legs, wrapping around them carelessly.

"So what, Iwa-chan?"

It's his turn to shrug now, distracted by the coffee-colored fur tickling against his knees. Oikawa leans forward to stare him in the face and bares his tiny, pointed teeth, amused.

"You should finish _everything_ you start, Iwa-chan," and it feels less like a tease and more of a scolding, so Iwaizumi snorts and flicks his forehead, too comfortable in the presence of a spirit that's said to eat the souls of those who trespass. The kitsune rubs it with a pout and draws away, folding his hands into the kimono's sleeves with a soft hum. "Well then, Iwa-chan," his name a spell all its own, "so long as you continue to visit me, I'm going to have to put you to work."

There's no dread or fear coiling around him at the light words, just Oikawa's tails as they trail invisible marks across his clothes and face. Iwaizumi thinks it might be protection against other spirits or something, but it could very well be territorial or a binding to keep him here and never let him home. Yet he doesn't let the thought linger, trusting the fox spirit not to be _that_ desperate for company and never thinking about the possibility that it could end up like that someday.


	42. outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the entire thing's really, _really_ uncomfortable for pretty much everyone involved, at some point or another

"So," Oikawa's still trying to come to terms with the fact the "new pet" he picked up off the street is a _werewolf_ , "are you housebroken?"

"Of _course_ I am, moron," Iwaizumi snaps back, anger coloring his face and tone. "I spend most of my life as a human, remember?"

"Do you always transform at night?"

"Am I transformed right now?"

He stares blankly, looks the werewolf up and down, and shakes his head. Iwaizumi returns to lounging across the couch, done with the conversation.

"... So do you like going outside or inside more--"

"If you don't stop asking me stupid questions," he growls low enough for Oikawa to remember that he is _definitely_ not entirely human, "I'm going to enjoy _inside_ even when I'm a wolf."

He wisely shuts up.

 

There's phases. During the week of the full moon it's just easier to stay in a wolf form, because otherwise Iwaizumi gets restless under the effects even during the day. New moon weeks he's uneasy too, but that's because vampires are more willing to be out and about. Werewolves and vampires, Oikawa learns, have some "bad blood" that's still being worked out. Something about how werewolves are savages or vampires have no restraint, centuries old from when foreigners first came to Japan. It's a bunch of history he doesn't care about but keeps in mind when he goes to his summer job. 

Weeks between are, blessed enough, whatever the hell Iwaizumi feels like. Oikawa's getting used to coming home to see a wolf stretched out on his couch some days and an uncomfortably handsome man in his kitchen on others. Probably more than he should be, honestly, but it's fine. Nothing he can't live with. Besides, it's worth having a bedmate to cuddle with at night.

... While cuddling with a dog is fine, cuddling with a man is _weird_ \- but he'd be lying to himself if he denied liking it. It's just a secret. Like a lot of things, just one more skeleton in the closet. He really hopes there's not actually one in there though.

"Do werewolves eat humans?"

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Iwaizumi replies, flipping through a magazine. Fashion, Oikawa sees from over his shoulder, and his lips pull back in a grin when the next page reveals himself in loose summer wear.

It falls immediately when Iwaizumi doesn't give it a glance. " _Iwa-chan!_ "

"What?"

"Didn't you see me? I was on the _other page_!" Oikawa flips it back to show him and the werewolf hums at pointed finger. He sighs, slumps against the couch, and unconsciously wraps his arms around Iwaizumi's neck. "Why are you flipping through this anyway, huh? Are mutts even _aware_ of fashion?"

"More than _you_ are, alien slippers."

"They were a gift!" From himself, but Iwaizumi doesn't need to know that.

The other laughs roughly and rests his head back into Oikawa's shoulder, lips brushing against his cheek and stilling his heart. "Guess the rest of your indoor clothes are all _gifts_ too then?"

"Y--Yeah," he stammers out, pulling away and trying to quell his suddenly quick pulse. "They are."

If it's weird to Iwaizumi he doesn't bring it up, just leans his head back and stares at Oikawa upside down with a squinted gaze. Oikawa smiles wide, clasps his fidgeting hands behind his back, and asks if he'd like to go out for dinner tonight.

 

He starts to like full moon weeks. He used to like new moon weeks more, because Iwaizumi would be more open to affection and tuck Oikawa close to himself protectively, but full moon weeks are suddenly the best thing. So is his summer job as a model. It gives him long hours, reasons to be out even when he wasn't working, and naturally it had a good deal of money involved with it too.

But when Iwaizumi stretches his forepaws out and climbs onto the couch next to Oikawa like this, wasting no time in laying across him silently, he can pretend he doesn't have a werewolf roommate. Just a pet dog.

Oikawa scratches the wolf's head absently while flipping through the commercials, settling on anything that was an actual show and changing the channel when it wasn't. He hears the other huff and glances down, grinning lightly at the _utterly relaxed_ expression on Iwaizumi's face. Only as a wolf. This was never the case when he was a human, though Oikawa blames that on the fact that human bodies are squishy and not as mobile as a wolf's (and therefore, in solid logic, needing to be more guarded).

Pet dog or not though, he's always been curious--

"Hey, Iwa-chan?"

A soft grunt.

"Can you talk as a wolf, or do you just not want to talk to me?"

Iwaizumi opens an eye and rolls it at him, shaking his head and pushing his muzzle more into the couch arm.

"That's too bad, I've kind of been hoping you would." Oikawa says that, but he's so relieved he could laugh. Definitely easy to pretend he just has a very smart pet.

 

"Sugawara-san?" The photographer looks up at him, tilting his head slightly, and Oikawa continues to push around his lunch. He crosses his ankles together and thinks of the man he's got back home - it's closer to a new moon right now, and Sugawara's always been pretty non-judgmental in the span he's known him... "This may sound a little odd, even for me, but... Have you ever met a werewolf?"

Sugawara stares, sets his chopsticks down, and folds his hands on the table. "Oikawa-kun... You've been taking extra hours and jobs recently, so don't you think you should rest?"

_He doesn't believe me,_ he realizes belatedly and chuckles to himself. _Well, if it wasn't happening to me in the first place_ I _wouldn't believe me either._

"Yes, you're right, I should... I've been leaving my dog home alone, but you couldn't tell with how much he ignores me when I get back."

His co-worker laughs, but there's a familiar crease to his forehead that Oikawa knows is confusion. "When did you get a dog?"

"The same time I met a werewolf," he jokes lightly, and Sugawara snorts. Oikawa leans back in his seat with a sigh. "A month or two ago. He was a stray that spoke to my heart."

"And you just brought him home? Did you bring him to the vets to see if he had all his shots?" Worry creases his face now and _oh shit_ that is a good point. Iwaizumi probably does. Probably. Actually, what kind of doctor would he bring Iwaizumi to if he got hurt? Human for human, animal for animal? It wasn't particularly near a full moon when he'd found the other, so maybe he transformed into a wolf when near death... "Oikawa-kun, _please_ tell me you brought him to the vet."

"Ah, well..." Oikawa scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, leaning on his hand. "He seemed well-behaved enough that he must've lived with humans before, so I didn't think to check."

It's such a long shot that even Sugawara knows he knows the discussion is over.

"When we're done with this shoot, you're clearing your schedule for the rest of the day and we're bringing your dog to the vet for a check up."

Oikawa's stomach drops with his appetite and he sighs again, defeated. Damn this man's stubbornness.

 

There's gotta be some god of decent fortune out there that's looking out for him. There _has_ to be, because that god has just cleared its throat and spit right on his face.

"Ah, um," Oikawa glances at Sugawara's baffled expression and then at Iwaizumi's wary one. "This is my roommate. Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan, my photographer from work."

The tense air melts when Sugawara gives him a look that says _Let's talk later_ and holds out his hand, grinning widely. "Sugawara Koushi, but you can just call me Suga. How long've you two known each other, Iwa-chan?"

"Iwaizumi," he corrects, flush streaking down his neck as he shakes the offered hand. Oikawa grins. "Couple months. He's letting me stay with him 'til I get back on my feet."

"Charitable," Sugawara murmurs, steps back and whispers to Oikawa. "How's he's paying you? In eye candy?"

"More than he realizes," he whispers back, fighting back a grin and clapping his hands together as he speaks up. "Well then, Iwa-chan! We're actually here on business - to bring my _darling_ little pet to the vet for a check up. I forgot to take him to make sure he had all of his shots."

Iwaizumi stalls, confused for a moment, before he nods and stalks into the small backyard. Oikawa's very glad. He's going to have to repay his roommate in some way - maybe a nice dinner or a movie of his choice - because the relief he feels is overwhelming. The werewolf returns as a dog after some acted play and pads over to them obediently, not shying from Oikawa's affections as he kneels down to cuddle him.

"Ooooh, who's my good boy? You are, aren't you~!" He dares to even _kiss_ Iwaizumi's snout, chuckling at the blatant glare he gets in return, and presses his face into the wolf's neck. Quick. Name. _Think_. "This is my very big beauty... Izumi. I think he's a mix of something or other, but see what I mean? Very well behaved."

Sugawara joins him on the ground and pets Iwaizumi gently, amused. "Izumi, huh... Well, it's nice to meet you, Izumi. I'm Suga."

"We're taking you to the vet for a quick check-up! And then you'll be back home in a flash~." Oikawa leans into Sugawara and stage-whispers: "Izumi's rather shy when it comes to going out into public."

Iwaizumi growls lowly and Oikawa laughs, petting him. "I'm joking, I'm joking! Let's go--"

"Isn't your roommate going to wanna come with us?" Sugawara asks, standing. "We should ask, at least--"

"No!" The man stops mid-step and turns to Oikawa expectantly, not wanting an answer for just this but for the roommate in question. He rubs his hands together and the lie comes out so easily he surprises himself. "Iwa-chan doesn't like doctors of any kind. And he says that Izumi's not his dog, so he's not going to do anything but feed him when I'm not around."

At least the second part makes sense. The wolf is laughing at him silently, he knows, and he squeezes his arms tighter around Iwaizumi as a warning. Sugawara hesitates and then nods, giving one last look to the door leading to the backyard and helping Oikawa fix a collar and leash around Iwaizumi's neck.

"She's an old friend of mine from high school," Sugawara tells him on the way and Oikawa is stuck on _she_ , because there's always time to get a discount and a number in his life, "so I'd appreciate your best behavior."

"I am _always_ on my best behavior," he replies instantly, discreetly smacking Iwaizumi with the loose leash when the wolf huffs. "But the first thing I do _won't_ be to flirt with her, if that's what you mean."

"It's _exactly_ what I mean."

 

Shimizu Kiyoko is gorgeous, intelligent, and above all _professional_. She takes one look at Iwaizumi, runs her hand through his shedding fur, and informs them that he's not a dog.

"I don't know what you thought, Oikawa-san," she finally directs her attention to Oikawa and he finds himself straightening up, admiring her pleasantly quiet voice, "but he seems to be a wolf."

"A wolf, huh." He pretends to have some level of skepticism even if his heart's pounding hard, hands itching to pet Iwaizumi or play with each other, and smiles. "What makes you say that, sensei? Are you sure he's not just a mix? I mean," his voice tightens a little and he moves to bury his fingers into the black fur, daring a kiss onto the wolf's forehead and wondering why Iwaizumi's so tense. "Wolves are extinct here, aren't they?"

"They are. I _would_ say he's a mix, but even they have clear signs of a domestic breed." Iwaizumi stiffens more when Shimizu leans close to his face, like he's barely holding back a snarl, and Oikawa frowns slightly. "They usually have some pink on their nose and their paws are mixed too. As you can see," she lifts one of his paws and shows the pads beneath, flexing his black claws, "he's completely black."

Iwaizumi pulls his paw back with a low growl that Oikawa speaks above, laying against the wolf to comfort him. "He's so well-behaved though! Is it alright if I still keep him, sensei? I've had him for months now and it's been perfectly fine."

Shimizu hesitates, backing up next to Sugawara and pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

_So beautiful_ , Oikawa thinks, but there's not the itch to touch her the way he has when he looks at Iwaizumi. Dammit. "I... wouldn't recommend it, but if that's what you want to do, I can only offer you the advice that... no matter how well-behaved he may be, Izumi _is_ a wild animal."

It feels like she knows more, which is why she's letting it go in the first place, and Sugawara's obvious concern only heightens his suspicions. The photographer draws him aside when Shimizu goes through the shots Iwaizumi needs and asks him if he's really, _positively_ sure that he wants to be the owner of an animal that could maul him without remorse. And if his roommate would mind after finding this out.

"Oh, well, I'm sure Iwa-chan wouldn't mind," and it's really cute how Iwaizumi's ears flick at his name, awwww, "since it's been like this for a while now... So yes! I'm sure. And if I end up dead on TV on account of my big bad wolf there then, well, that's just how it is I suppose."

Sugawara's still not convinced, but if there's one thing Oikawa excels in above all it's being twice as stubborn as anyone else he knows. Like one of those finger traps: The more you pull, the less likely he's gonna let go. He reads it across Sugawara's face when he realizes this and grins victoriously, playing with his hands behind his back and waiting for everything to finish up.

Iwaizumi just looks so _uncomfortable_. It'd be hilarious if he didn't look on the verge of ripping someone's arm off and tearing out of there, and it's clear he's happy to be away from Shimizu when the shots are done and he's tucked in front of Oikawa's feet.

_Protective as ever, for whatever reason._ Oikawa strokes his head comfortingly, thumbing down the fur by his ear and smiling when Iwaizumi leans just a little into his touch. _At least it's endearing._

 

"She's a vampire," Iwaizumi says bluntly as soon as they're home and he's no longer a wolf. Where he'd usually slouch into the sofa - tired from taking another form so close to the new moon - Oikawa feels restlessness come off in waves, even if all the other's doing is leaning against the back of the sofa where _he's_ sitting today, fingers idly playing with Oikawa's hair in persistent tugs. "Shit. And she _knows_."

"Is she dangerous?" Vampires usually are, but he's not sure if there's levels to it. Iwaizumi seemed like an unusually nice werewolf, after all. Even if he's rude and tells Oikawa his cooking is shit when it's just _charred_ a bit.

"... No," he grudgingly admits. "If she's working around humans without a care then she's probably feeding from a willing source and knows self-control."

Oikawa smiles lightly and tips his head back to look at the other, caught by the pensive gaze for a moment before laughing. "Well, then there's no problem, right? You'll only have to visit her once a year anyway."

Unless Iwaizumi gets sick with some dog disease or something. But Oikawa doesn't see that happen often, mostly because he's pretty sure werewolves don't get sick? Maybe? They apparently had good health in stories. His roommate still seems a little on edge, but the twisting in his hair stops and Iwaizumi rounds the sofa to slouch into it like usual with a small huff.

"Just don't make me turn into a wolf again for the next two weeks. I feel like I've been hit by a truck." He pauses, glancing aside at Oikawa and grinning slightly. "And I _know_ what that feels like."

Oikawa gasps lightly and lays a hand on his roommate's arm, trying to tell himself the spiders scurrying across his skin isn't from the small contact. "That sounds _awful_ , Iwa-chan, how could you be so _stupid_?"

"Funny coming from _you_ ," he returns, leaning a bit closer (maybe?) and chuckling quietly ( _definitely,_ Oikawa's heart screams). "I was young."

_I was young_ set something off in him and he craves every detail of Iwaizumi's life before he found him, words tumbling out. "What else happened when you were young?"

The werewolf leans into the arm of the sofa with a scowl, as far away from Oikawa's staring as he can possibly manage while being apparently half-dead. "Old news. Ask me tomorrow and maybe I'll tell you something."

"I'll hold you to that," Oikawa replies and (absolutely, no doubts about it) shifts closer to him, grinning widely. "I don't forget things easily, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi eyes him but grunts his acknowledgement, slouching further into the cushions and taking control of the remote. Maybe it's his imagination, but there's a hint of red across his cheeks and Oikawa feels uncomfortably excited at the prospect of it happening more often.


	43. winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oikawa's always been casual and needy, too comfortable for his own good, and on his wedding day it eats at iwaizumi like it had for the past two years

Iwaizumi doesn't know how Oikawa let his fiancee talk him into a _winter wedding_ , considering that every time that brat stepped out into the chill he clung tightly to Iwaizumi's arm and complained. Even now, the morning air biting into their cheeks as they step outside their apartment (which'll become either too empty or too crowded depending on what Oikawa decides), the taller habitually moves closer and presses his cheek against Iwaizumi's shoulder, gloved hands searching for his and squeezing tightly. But there's no complaints, just a slight trembling Iwaizumi knows isn't the cold, and his chest feels like it collapses in on itself.

"You _can't_ be nervous now."

"I-- I'm not," he lies, but doesn't move an inch forward. "I'm just, you know. Trying to get used to the cold."

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and forces his personal feelings aside, every drop of happiness trying to overwhelm him when Oikawa turns to him and gets the hug he expects, pinching the other just so he knows it's not without consequence. "It's your own fault for getting talked into a wedding out of season like this. You _hate_ the cold and you're gonna be having an _outdoor_ one."

"I thought it'd be romantic! And, well, it was a compromise." Oikawa sniffles, burying his face into the crook of his neck and the drops swell high in his eyes. No. No crying. Iwaizumi purses his lips and waits for the other to continue, leaning back against the door when there's nothing and just letting his friend relax. He'll come out with it. It's been _years_ since Iwaizumi's had to drag truths out of Oikawa's mouth (but only a little over two since he's been able to drag his name like an oath, panted and _he's not thinking about this right now_ ) so it'll come. And it does, quiet and hesitant like Oikawa knows it's stupid, silly, like Iwaizumi'll berate him for it. "I... She wanted to move across seas, so I told her we could have the wedding in winter _and_ we'd live in her parent's old house. As long as we didn't."

Too empty. Iwaizumi swallows the heavy thought, glancing back at the apartment they'd made their own through college and past. "Guess I'll have to put in for a new roommate, huh."

Oikawa chuckles softly, sniffling in the middle of it and burying closer. "Mmhmm. Sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't want anything to change."

"So when am I gonna start moving boxes for you?"

"Mm, well," he pulls away enough to obliterate the rest of Iwaizumi's happiness with his own bright smile at the _thought_ of moving in with his will-be wife. "After New Year's, so we have some time still together."

If had been a few years ago, those words would be dipped in honey and drip sensually across Oikawa's pale skin, the slow roll of the liquid a perfect picture for the man Iwaizumi held now. These casual touches would always be the death of him. He wonders if they'll stop after Oikawa starts his new life with the woman that'd stolen his heart, if Oikawa'll be okay clinging to his wife during severe thunders and not his best friend that knows how to calm him down, if she'll know how to pull every problem from him when he says _I'm fine_ when he's not. Part of Iwaizumi hopes he's still the one Oikawa calls and the other tells him that it's foolish.

"Iwa-chan?" He snaps back to attention and averts his eyes from Oikawa's concerned gaze, inquisitive as always. "Is everything okay?"

"... Yeah," he finally says, stomach chewing itself up. "I'm just thinking about how much you're gonna have to pay my chiropractor when my back gives out."

Oikawa chuckles and presses their foreheads together, squeezing Iwaizumi's hands (and heart) with a grin that pulls up more on one side than the other. "Iwa-chan's stronger than that. You'll be fine."

(Would this stop too? The comfortableness? Why did Oikawa always have to be so _goddamn touchy_ and look at him like he's the world when that's reserved for his _bride_ now?)

"Still billing you," Iwaizumi mutters as he gently pushes the other away and keeps their hands tucked between their bodies. "Come on. I'm not letting you be late today of all days."

"You're always so reliable, Iwa-chan." The warm, loving tone that's reserved for _him_ leaves him feeling emptier than he thought it would and he grunts in reply. Oikawa stares at him a moment, licking his lips, and smiles a little tightly. "Thank you."

Iwaizumi breathes out his silent hope that Oikawa's _cold feet_ would be more than literal, the dream going up in white vapors. "Yeah, whatever. Anytime."

("I'll still call you when I'm scared, Iwa-chan," Oikawa says out of the blue when they're changing into their wedding garments. "You're the only one who can comfort me."

It's a rare admittance that's always been just _understood_ between them, and Iwaizumi's throat lumps up just before he replies. "Get used to doing that with your wife instead, dumbass.")


	44. sea dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iwaizumi's part of a rehearsal he's not even aware of, while oikawa starts to come to terms with his feelings

No matter how many times he dives with Oikawa, the sight of the light dancing across his pale skin and reflecting off the merman's silver tail always takes his breath away. It's started to get easier to recover from though, every day they take a dip after laying in the sun together, but Oikawa'll never let him live it down so long as that first look keeps happening.

"It's charming," the merman had mentioned as he floated on his back, oblivious to the dangers like he's done it a million of times. "I don't get a lot of looks like that - I'm beautiful even where I live, but it _is_ a pretty common sight. So I like it when you look at me like that, Iwa-chan."

There's always some kind of secret hidden in his words, one that's so obvious Iwaizumi can't deny that the other's _flirting_ with him, but unless it specifically comes up without any tangents attached Iwaizumi's not addressing it. It's dangerous to be involved with sea creatures in the first place. He doesn't need more of a reason to let himself get attached or used to everything enough to _enjoy_ the merman's affections.

But _this_ seems a little more intimate, Oikawa's fingers firm on his waist as he glides them through the water, the small waves his tail pushes against Iwaizumi's legs gentle and relaxing. They're both conscious of how long they can stay under together - Merpeople didn't have a sense of time, but Oikawa knows how to count and he keeps it in mind while Iwaizumi's chest reminds him of what they have left - and Oikawa drifts them back up, breaking eye contact to look at the surface. It breaks the spell on Iwaizumi too and he coughs the rest of his air up just before they break, gasping loudly.

"Was it a little too long?" Oikawa asks, tracing his back as he circles around. He knows the other likes his body heat, wants to curl up with it and never let go, and he wonders if it's the same even in the water. Maybe. "I can stay closer to the surface next time."

"S'fine. I just got a little distracted." Iwaizumi clears his throat and focuses on the water below him, wondering how far down the mercity Oikawa kept talking about was. With its kelp books and strict laws.

Even if he won't say what he got distracted by, Oikawa grins and presses closer like he knows, his tail brushing against Iwaizumi's legs. "I see~. If you get _too_ distracted you might pass out, and I won't know what to do then."

"CPR." The fish blinks widely at him, water running streaks down his cheeks, and Iwaizumi shakes his head. "I'll teach you later. Wanna take a break?"

"Do _you_?"

Merpeople have too much stamina in the first place. He can't really say he _wants_ to take a break - the ocean feels good today, especially on a sun beaten fisherman - but it's getting harder and harder to remember to come up for air every time he and Oikawa dive, going a little deeper each try. So he shrugs and lets the other take him by the hand (smooth to his own pruned fingers, slightly webbed and pleasantly cool), relaxing as the merman swims them back to his boat.

"... So what was that anyway? With your hands on me like that."

Oikawa stills, the next stretch almost mechanical as he flops on the boat's deck. "Just a dance. I figured it was boring just swimming all the time, so I wanted to spice it up."

"What kind of dance is it?" He sits up as he asks, elbows behind him as he stares down the merman when he really, _really_ should be getting back to fishing. It's his livelihood. But the sun's so nice and Oikawa's more likely to escape the conversation if he's distracted.

Usually he had no problems with talking about anything and everything under the sea. Much to Iwaizumi's disdain (and secret delight). The more he knew about what merfolk were like, the more involved he got, and the more interested he was... which spelled trouble in the highest form. But this seems to be a topic that Oikawa wants to avoid, rolling onto his front to bury his face in his arms.

"... It's, um." Oikawa clears his throat once, twice, and Iwaizumi doesn't catch the words the first time. He prods him with his foot and the pale skin flushes red as the merman speaks up. "It's a marriage dance."

Iwaizumi stares at the ducked head, his own cheeks heating up when the words register and he lays back down. "Huh."

"I-- don't mean anything by it, of course, it's _just_ a dance." From such a strict and apparently traditional society? Yeah, right. But Iwaizumi's willing to overlook it, if only to keep his sanity intact. Just a dance.

"Guess it's funner with two merpeople, right?"

Oikawa lifts his head like he's about to protest, lips parting and then pressing into a smile. "It is." But he scoots closer, half-laying on Iwaizumi without a care to the half-hearted shove he gets in return. "It's funner with two of my kind, but it's not half bad with you. I can't do the entire thing though."

He grunts, not wanting to appear _too_ interested, but it's enough for the merman to gush on.

"It can last from sunrise to sundown, depending on how intricate it is, and all families have their own base dance they branch off of and make their own." Which means Oikawa's probably working on his too, and while the thought sullies Iwaizumi's mood he pays it little mind. "You're the first person I've done it with though."

"Like, for practice?"

The pause lasts long than he expects it to - not that he expected one at all, honestly, Oikawa's so quick to retort to anything he says - and Iwaizumi lifts his head a little. Oikawa's looking out at sea, the wind ruffling his quickly drying hair, and startles when Iwaizumi glides his hand down his back. It's a motion that Iwaizumi knows he likes a lot.

But it just seems to put Oikawa at unease, shaking his head free of whatever'd distracted him and rolling off of Iwaizumi with a soft grunt.

"Yeah, practice. I'm feeling a little dry--"

"We _just got on board_."

"-- So I'm going home early, Iwa-chan, make sure you catch a lot so we can hang out tomorrow!"

Oikawa's off the side of the deck before Iwaizumi can even react, the splash distant when he looks down at the ocean and sees the remaining ripples of his friend's quick escape.

Maybe it hadn't been practice. No, it had to have been, because for all his playful teases, the things that felt borderline flirting, Oikawa definitely wouldn't be interested in a human that way. Iwaizumi was just his ticket to shore. That's all. He _had_ left awfully fast though.

Iwaizumi waves the thoughts away with the sway of the ship and gets to work, suddenly want to finish up as fast he can and get away from the sea that'd always relaxed him before he'd met that damnable fish boy.


	45. bad luck comes in leaps and bounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poor kunimi can't catch a break when it comes to his senpai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was for day one (domestic) of iwaoi week last week! i never could think of something for the last day though, so it'll just be day one to six. enjoy until [next week](http://iwaoiweek.tumblr.com/post/119293529753/double-the-iwaoi-double-the-fun-monday-june-8th)!

There’s a point in time when some things - that were ordinary, a little odd at first but something you got used to - turned _absolutely ridiculous_ , and for Kunimi this comes during Seijou’s training camp, being able to see his senpai’s closeness for an entire week. It’s very much shoved into their faces (which he knows bothers Kindaichi for a different reason, as much as he tries to hide it) and it’s really nice they know each other so well, could be pretty interesting to watch and make fun of (which Hanamaki-san and Matsukawa-san both enjoy), but for Kunimi it’s an utter source of pain.

Mostly because _he’s_ the one who keeps stepping in on them.

“Ahhh, Iwa-chan, you’re going too fast... ♥!”  


“Will you _shut up_?! You’re too loud, idiot. Everyone’s tired and probably napping.”  


“You’re the one who’s yelling!”  


“You are too!”  


Kunimi wonders if he angered a god somewhere. Maybe he should’ve taken his New Year’s fortune more to heart when it’d said _Great Curse_ , maybe he should’ve accepted the good luck charms from the girls who’d stammered their way into practice on more than one occasion. But _maybe_  does nothing to end Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san’s argument, so he mutters a loud “Excuse me” and snags snacks from the cabinet a little ways away.

“-- Kunimi-chan! I didn’t even hear you. You shouldn’t spoil your appetite eating snacks,” Oikawa-san chides, butt bumping Iwaizumi-san away so fast it’s _gotta_  be something lewd they’re doing in the kitchen. Even with the other third year’s stoic scowl, Kunimi can tell. “We’re making something very nice full of lots of love for our kouhai so you all have the energy to deal with tomorrow.”  


“... No thank you. I’m not very hungry for dinner anyway,” and it’s not a lie, the thought of the  _lots of love_  that gets put into their food churning his stomach slightly. At least they’re just one rotation. “I’m just gonna snack and then sleep.”  


Iwaizumi-san crosses his arms over his chest - though the apron Oikawa-san’d managed to shove onto him really detracts from his scary seriousness - and shakes his head, reaching out to pluck the bag from Kunimi’s grasp. “Oikawa’s right. Don’t ruin your appetite--”

“It’s fine,” Kunimi deadpans, turning away from his second pair of parents. “But if it’s not too out of place, please don’t put anymore _love_  into the food, Oikawa-san, Iwaizumi-san.”  


It’s an instant reaction. Even without facing them he can tell Oikawa-san’s struggling not to crack in embarrassment, always caught off guard by this situation no matter how many times it comes up, and Iwaizumi-san is even less successful since he stays quiet.

“Y-You’ll regret not eating, Kunimi-chan,” the captain tries, clearing his throat. “But if that’s your decision, I won’t change it. Just don’t let the coaches see you, Okay?”

“Sure.”  


Just one of the many times they’ve been caught by the underclassman so far and how it’d probably be for the rest of the year. Kunimi wishes it wasn’t him every time (even at Kitagawa this was the case), but it’s probably better that it is. Kindaichi’d be depressed for the whole week. Watari-san probably wouldn’t care that much and Yahaba-san might be awkward, but at least Kunimi could brush it off and pretend it never happened. Better for his own sanity that way.

Besides, it’s kinda fun to interrupt them when they start to get really into it.


	46. a picture is worth a thousand words. and some are just worth a thousand moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the selfie may have been man's greatest invention - or so oikawa's always claimed, tossing an arm around his neck and taking another - but there has _got_ to be a stopping point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day two! selfie & “Happiness is holding someone in your arms and knowing you held the whole world.”

Oikawa _loves_  his selfies. Sure, he takes ten or so until it’s _just right_ , but it’s just too much fun to take a quick shot and send it off. Even more if he’s got a partner in crime--

And while unwilling, Iwaizumi is usually that person.

“Just one!” He begs, hands clasped around his phone like it’s the most important thing in the world. “Just one, Iwa-chan~?”  


“It’s always _just one, just one_ , and then I end up getting pulled into three more by the end of the day. What the hell are you trying to prove?”  


Oikawa’s eyes widen and he blinks a few times, gaze sliding to the wall behind Iwaizumi’s shoulder and wavering there. “I... Nothing, Iwa-chan. I just like taking pictures with you. Is that so wrong?”

... Oh, goddammit. Iwaizumi rubs his face and looks away, huffing. “No. It just feels like you’re trying to say something. I’m not gonna get it unless you tell me, Oikawa.”

“Well,” the other drawls, clearly not thinking, “I can’t just say _Iwa-chan, I love you, let’s go out_ , right?”  


The silence starts out like usual, like one of them’d just asked about the weather or about homework, but the longer Iwaizumi’s mouth hangs open and Oikawa’s neck reddens the more it weighs down on their shoulders, neither looking at the other. Oikawa seems to be frozen in time, a nervous smile stuck to his face, while the other closes his mouth and clears his throat, heat trailing across his face.

“... On one condition.”  


“You’re actually considering it--”  


“ _On one condition_ ,” Iwaizumi raises his voice above his confessor’s, furious at the smallest shake in his words and then at his clammy hands, eyes that won’t meet Oikawa’s, heart that feels right out of practice. He holds his breath and exhales, pointing at the phone clasped loosely in his friend’s hand. “No more selfies.”  


“ _None?!_ ”

“None with me in them, anyway. I seriously hate that habit of yours.”  


Oikawa looks about to protest, the whine almost too familiar in his eyes, but he hesitates and bites his lip, fiddling with the phone. “... Well, I didn’t really think you’d want to go out with me in the first place, so I think I can deal with that.”

 _Good_ , he thinks to himself, not registering the calamity he’d just gotten into, _now I don’t have to deal with him whining when I don’t get in a pic with him._

_  
_

Iwaizumi learns he deals with a lot more now. The usual bout of Oikawa is fine, welcome, a comfort and a constant he’s used to, but with the addition of _boy_  onto _friend_  (which had kept Iwaizumi up all night the day it’d happened as he laid there and realized he’d 1. gotten asked out unexpectedly by his best friend of nearly a decade and 2. _accepted it on a condition_ ) brings new challenges, such as:

\- The wavering hands between them on their way to morning practice, Oikawa very clearly wanting to try holding his like they used to do as kids and Iwaizumi wondering if he was ever gonna do it and hoping he didn’t.

\- The hesitant awkwardness of being alone in the locker room at lock up, Oikawa not disguising his appreciation of what he used to describe as “Iwa-chan’s disgustingly buff bod” and Iwaizumi’s neck burning at the casual touches as the other stands at his locker just beside him.

\- The off seriousness of Oikawa’s past flirts and teases finally coming full circle, much to Iwaizumi’s embarrassed groans in the middle of the night, and how they were always directed at _him_  now rather than him and _other people_  (who seem to be completely out of Oikawa’s life as far as the brunet was concerned, claiming he only had eyes for Iwa-chan and no one realizing how deeply true that was).

And finally--

“Can I kiss you, Iwa-chan?” A simple request that’d come up every now and then, half a year into their upgrade of a relationship, and just like ever Iwaizumi feels himself stiffen and forces himself to relax, only to tense up when the other’s fingers graze his arm and hesitate, settling at his wrist.  


“I really wish you’d stop asking,” Iwaizumi grumbles and pecks him first, face hot when he turns away and misses (but knows) Oikawa mirroring his expression. “Just do it if you wanna.”  


“But I don’t know if _you_  want to. Iwa-chan’s...”  


Iwaizumi shoots him a glance, curiosity piqued, but Oikawa’s fiddling with the clothes he should be putting on. He traces the line of his boyfriend’s shoulder to the curve of his back, gaze dipping low to catch the shift of his legs. Discomfort. When there’s no reply, he prods the other with a finger and snorts at the jump.

“-- I feel like I should know Iwa-chan really, really well, since we’ve been friends forever and all, but I can’t tell when or even _if_ you want to do couple stuff with me!” It finally comes out, resounding in the locker room, and Iwaizumi blinks widely at Oikawa. The setter seems a little more on edge at the confession too, fidgeting stopped as he just plain out _strangles_  his shirt with wide eyes focused on the floor. “Iwa-chan... You’re not just doing this to humor me, right?”

Was it really that difficult to tell?

Well. He knows he’s always been pretty pragmatic, too used to not giving into Oikawa without some level of a fight, but had he really been conveying that message?

... Looking back, yeah, Iwaizumi can see how it’d be mistaken - even by someone who knows him as well as Oikawa does, who can order for him off a menu before he even looks at it, who knows exactly the present to get no matter how many times he tells the other not to bother - and he feels guilt claw at his mind. Reaches out and gently pries the shirt from Oikawa’s fingers, holds the hands steadily in his own, and sighs.

“Sorry.” Oikawa’s fingers tighten and Iwaizumi quickly continues, not wanting him to get more of a wrong idea. “I mean, sorry for not being showy about it. I’m not... really used to it. I’m more used to you still being my best friend too. It’s weird. But I’m not humoring you.”  


“... You mean it? It’s not just because we’ve got that unshakable bond of childhood friends?”  


“Don’t describe it so grossly, but no, it’s not.” Iwaizumi breathes in, face heating up as he looks at their joined hands and squeezes back. “I like you, Oikawa. I know I don’t show it as flashily as you do - that makes me uncomfortable, by the way - but I do. Don’t doubt me. _Trust me_ ,” he exhales, watching the other’s forearms shake. “Okay?”  


Oikawa _mmhmms_ , stepping closer and burying his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder with a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan.”

“I am too.” He pretends not to feel his shoulder growing wet and warm, resting the sides of their heads together to wait out the shakes and silent sobs, guilt continuing to gnaw at him until he sighs, grumbling softly. “... You wanna... take a picture?”  


“Hmm? What was that, Iwa-chan?” And not because he wants to hear it again, Iwaizumi knows, but it still irritates him. _He_  irritates _himself_. Ugh.  


“Do you--” Slow, slow, don’t get embarrassed. “Do you wanna take a picture?”  


“I thought you didn’t want to join me in any more, Iwa-chan?”  


“I’m gonna regret it, probably, but one’s fine. _Just_  one.”  


Oikawa draws away enough to look at him, splotchy cheeks lifting into a crooked, genuine smile, and Iwaizumi focuses on wiping the the tears away by habit. “Okay.”

Because a picture’ll remind him. It’s the first give in their relationship, and even if it’s only because Iwaizumi feels so guilty about not showing Oikawa properly he knows it means the world to the other to go back on their one condition for one selfie. Oikawa makes sure he looks presentable first, ten minutes of washing his face and five more tittering on his phone like he’s actually _nervous_  before Iwaizumi’s dragging him back to his chest, arms wrapping around the other’s waist and chin resting on his shoulder.

The phone’s camera captures Oikawa’s blush beautifully and Iwaizumi smiles, reaching up to press the button.

“-- Iwa-chan, no! I wasn’t ready!”  


“Looked ready to me. Don’t send that to everyone, alright? And, before you delete it, remember - it’s the only one you’re getting from me willingly.”  


Oikawa scowls at him, hunching over the phone moodily. Iwaizumi rustles his hair and goes back to packing up, pausing at the other’s next words.

“I wouldn’t wanna delete it anyway, Iwa-chan. You’re smiling in it.”  


“On second thought, delete it.”  


“Nope~,” Oikawa sings, ducking away from Iwaizumi’s reaching hand with a laugh. “It’s all mine now~. Iwa-chan, you look so in love! It’s adorable! I’m making it my background!”  


“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he snarls, chasing after his boyfriend without any real ire, grinning just as wide when Oikawa’s not looking behind him.

The brunet laughs again - open and breathless - and tosses a grin back at Iwaizumi that makes his heart restart. “I really, really, _really_ love you, Iwa-chan~!”

“-- Don’t just _say that_ ,” he splutters in reply, but the damage is done and he can feel his will draining. Oikawa steals a kiss and lets himself get caught this time, sighing happily into Iwaizumi’s lips and--

Well. Iwaizumi won’t deny him this, high off adrenaline and wrapping his arms around Oikawa again, relaxing into their private warmth.


	47. azaleas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> their romance is, historically speaking, like peace over the course of thousands of years: wonderful, relaxed, and fleeting most of all
> 
> **warning! major character death.** can't stand it, please go onto the next chapter - it's perfectly okay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day three: ‘he’s half of my soul, as the poets say’

There’s many things that could be said about Oikawa Tooru, about how brilliant he is not just in mind but in general company, never wasting a moment or a breath as he catches every eye and ear as easily as a rare sight. His laughter warms even the more winter of hearts, melting cracks and nurturing buds that’ll bloom into flowers that cry _Tooru, Tooru_  in need of that particular sunshine. You could even talk about how prettily he grins, eyes squinted slightly, but there’d be nothing to compare. The way he dances from topic to topic, the polite warmth he gives to everyone equally, how even a moment’s attention feels like years--

And it still wouldn’t be enough to quench Iwaizumi’s flaring discomfort when the chestnut eyes linger on him, a pause at the tip of Oikawa’s tongue before it slides off with every silken tension. He exhales softly not to alarm the other guard beside him and stays at attention, legs long used to the monotonous standing.

“You always look so sour,” Oikawa informs him when they’re alone, no longer a prince and a guard but two old friends. Iwaizumi grunts and consciously keeps his hands to himself, unlike the pale one inching closer to him. “You should smile a little more. There’s plenty of women who’d take your favor if you asked, being a friend of mine.”  


“I’m not interested,” the same answer as always, and the other’s eyes always spark up in delight at that.  


“Then how _are_  you interested?” The same question as always, and Iwaizumi’s long gotten used to the heat in his cheeks and unease rolling in his stomach as he flicks his friend’s forehead and lays back on the too comfy bed, truly made for a prince - and for one person at that.  


“My duty above all, Your Highness.”  


Oikawa hums (as always) and lays beside him, face soft and eyes sliding shut. “Of course, of course.”

Iwaizumi keeps an eye on him from the side, waits until the breathing’s evened out from the stuttered feigned sleep, and brushes Oikawa’s bangs from his forehead, placing a soft kiss and prayer for safety at his fragile temple. The same thing, every night, and he doesn’t let the routine go unchanged as he leaves to his own quarters not too far, remembering the too soft bed and the too willing prince who liked to share it with him.

He flushes and reminds himself that it’s only because they’re friends, nothing more, that Oikawa’s ever so casual and comfortable with him.

  


The ritual is broken once after a particularly long day of dealing with the masses - which wouldn’t be a problem, not for the shining Oikawa, the brilliant young man said to be half god, half man, if it wasn’t for the hanging reminder of a wife above his head - and Iwaizumi finds himself between the too soft mattress and the too willing prince’s heavy body, a warm sigh brushing past his ears.

“I’m not interested, you know,” it whispers, the solid ball in Iwaizumi’s gut liquefying into dread that curdles his gut. “Duty above all, but I’m not interested.”  


It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to ask, and he swallows hard, knows from the tightness in Oikawa’s hands that _he_  knows, before the question comes out, almost too quiet to have existed. “Then how _are_  you interested?”

“... You know,” he says instead of answering, just another broken circle, “I’ve always liked the way the guards looked, always so proud and tall. With their chests out, shining metal displaying their worth and the emblem they’ve decided to swear to.” Iwaizumi waits for something else after that, arm starting to fall asleep by the time Oikawa finally props up on his forearms, eyes finally sliding to him and it’s that lingering look again, the one that chills him and heats him where he lays. “I’ve always liked the look of you too, Iwa-chan.”  


His heart feels too fast, too loud. Throat too dry. They’re too close, even if Oikawa’s pensive and hesitant with every passing second, and Iwaizumi finally lets out a choked “Me, too,” and finds his breath stolen.

A new tradition begins, one of fire and without words, a need burning between them.  


Iwaizumi doesn’t get to return to his cold quarters that night. He’s trapped by a surprisingly clingy Oikawa, arms so tight he half wonders if the prince is actually sleeping, and not even the point of _They’ll talk if I’m found here_  stirs anything but contempt from the prince.

“They won’t do anything,” he says so assuredly that Iwaizumi believes him a little bit. “Even if they talk, I swear, I won’t let them do anything.”  


“You’re so selfish,” but Iwaizumi’s not pulling away, buries himself just as guilty into Oikawa’s fragrant hair with a deep inhale. The lingering glances are gonna be _so_  much more painful to ignore now. “You can’t stop everyone, you know.”  


“I’m the son of a goddess.” The words were always present, buzzing in the back of the people’s minds when they looked at Oikawa, and hearing them spoken out loud by the man himself solidified what doubt there may have ever been or ever would be. “I can stop _anyone_. I’m not afraid.”  


  


Iwaizumi was right. The glances are harder to ignore now. He knows what they mean, what they’ve _always_ meant, and now they’re paired with a smile that holds a secret between them. The guard swallows, uncomfortably hot in his suddenly heavy uniform, and remembers the way Oikawa had peeled off each layer with a laugh so gleeful it’d reminded him of innocent runs through the forest.

His companion looks worriedly to the side when Iwaizumi sighs, rubbing his forehead. He waves away the concern and keeps an eye on the surroundings.

  


“How long have I held _your_ interest?”  


Iwaizumi pauses in writing a letter to his mother - she’s been _dying_  to get one, he knows, and looks at the prince dangling across his harder bed, legs on one side head on the other. His face is starting to turn pink like the blossoms in spring and reddens further when it’s pointed out.

“I heard that you can see the future if you do this long enough! I’m only wondering if we’ll be together forever, Iwa-chan~.”  


The nickname slides off easily as ever, but the rest of the sentence sticks uncomfortably into his side and Iwaizumi doesn’t reply. He feels Oikawa’s stare, intense as ever, and exhales softly.

“I’ll be at your side as long as you want me to be, moron. Why worry about the future?”  


He feels the room lighten and a glance over his shoulder confirms the brilliance of Oikawa’s smile directed at him, pleased with the answer.

“Of course, of course.”  


  


  


“What about you?”  


“Hmm?”  


“How long?” Iwaizumi’s neck reddens, as does his ears and cheeks. Oikawa watches it in the long pause that follows, walks his fingers up it in his mind and doesn’t lose his smile when the other finishes the question. “Have you been interested in me, I mean.”  


“A while,” he answers honestly, heart clenching painfully at too many years of just sitting and watching and _wondering_. “I guess.”  


Iwaizumi hums.

  


They may know him at his greatest, but there are few who’ve seen his smile stretched far too thin, light voice stained with grief and fatigue, and Iwaizumi can be counted of the few. He’d be the only, but Oikawa remembers the winds pulling tears off his cheeks and knew it was his mother, whose gales were feared by sailors and farmers on the coast. These are caught in the rough fabric of his lover’s embrace, callous worn hands wiping at his cheeks and streaking them across the high bones.

“My mother told me once that I wasn’t born for war,” Oikawa whispers once the sobs have subsided, fear edging at his tired mind and nuzzling him closer to Iwaizumi (who feels like a protector, a wall that surrounds him with encircling arms, lightness that floats his heart to the top of his chest and keeps it there with every careful touch). “She told me that I was best for diplomacy.”  


But no one’s looking for that. They’re built on honor and battle, bloodshed and triumph, taking by force instead of with words, and Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around him.

“There’s no other choice,” the man replies, burying his nose into the crown of his head. “We don’t fight with words.”  


“I know,” Oikawa takes a steady breath, rising from Iwaizumi’s embrace and wishing he could stay trapped in it a little longer. “I know. There _will_  be war, and I _will_  win it.”  


Iwaizumi’s mouth closes and he nods, a silent pledge burning in his eyes.

_I’ll follow you._

  


At seventeen Oikawa weighs his ornate sword - given to him by his father before they’d left - in his hand, imagines it run through the ribs of another man, and heaves his lunch into a bush before he joins Iwaizumi in their shared tent, sweaty and cold.

“... Are you okay?”  


“Fine,” he lies too obviously, smiling widely and letting the tarp drop before he follows onto the other, too many layers between them. “I’m fine now that I’m with you.”  


The guard-- no, the _soldier_  scrunches his nose but doesn’t say anything else, just cards his hand through Oikawa’s hair and lays back. They won’t be expected for a few hours when the meeting at evening begins. The prince thinks to ask Iwaizumi to distract him, nose against his neck with a playful laugh, but his friend speaks up.

“... I’m kind of scared,” he admits softly, and Oikawa stiffens. Spoken the words that’d been running in his mind since they’d come to camp, the ones that had drawn him here to Iwaizumi instead of to the forest where he could hear the rustling leaves of his mother best as she worried them with her wind. Iwaizumi shifts, chin digging into the top of his head and arms tight around Oikawa’s middle. “War’s a lot different than in the stories.”  


“All glory and courageous men, hacking down their wrongful foes without a thought to their reasons.”  


“Do you _want_ to know their reasons, Oikawa?”  


It’s a strange turn of conversation, because you shouldn’t give thought to your foes and the burden they carry, but Oikawa nods without hesitation, surprising himself.

“... I do.” A new conviction thrumming loudly in his chest, rattling his nerves as he finds himself restless. “War _can_  be fought with words, Iwa-chan. I’m going to see if we can gain an audience with their leaders.”  


Because words have always been his best asset, a gift of gab from his whistling mother and honed in the courts of his father, and Oikawa grins brightly down at Iwaizumi as new plans fill his head - always a better tactician than a soldier anyway.

  


_I accept,_  the king had told him, eyes sparkling in amusement at Oikawa’s clever charm and offer of truce. That’d been hours ago and now he lays in quiet content on the bed offered to him for the night; in the morning he’ll take his horse and bring back the details of the truce, a single man whose wit bloomed and jabbed like the sword he had been fated to wield. Glory might be won with swords and bloodshed, but there was no dishonor in saving lives.

He turns on his side and stares at the ground, dyed by the moonlit window, and reaches for one of the honeyed treats that the grand adviser had so graciously left him in case his sweet tooth acted up again.

There’s the pounding of wind at his window, an attempt to get in, but Oikawa thinks nothing of it. He smells a heavy fragrance from the flowers below and tastes rich tartness on his tongue, reclining and wishing only that Iwaizumi was with him to enjoy the fruits of his labor, to share the too large bed and kindle warmth between the cool silken sheets.

The wind howls at the glass again but it doesn’t budge, and he falls asleep with the bowl conquered and a stomach full of sweetness that sticks to his teeth.

  


  


Iwaizumi’s roused by a commotion outside the barren tent, the sun barely cracking across the land, and the tarp lifts hurriedly as one of the others under Oikawa’s command peers nerovusly in and sees him sitting up. The ruckus only gets louder, with words garbled, and Iwaizumi almost doesn’t hear the ones that fall from the young man’s pale lips:

“His Highness has been killed.”  


A chill races across his skin, deadening his limbs as he stares and stares and suddenly stands, a wave of heat boiling his blood and the soldier steps aside for him, eyes wide and panicked.

“Bring me my horse!” He roars, and even if he’s just a soldier like the rest of them, the honored guard of a minor prince bestowed with the tongue of gods, they obey, the wind whipping the dry dust around furiously as if to dig Oikawa from the underworld and bring him home. “I won’t return without him,” he swears, seething in anger at Oikawa for being so trusting, at the deceitful kings he’d gone to converse with about peace, at _himself_  for letting his prince go, for letting himself believe there was a chance at something other than war as long it was _Oikawa_  there to stop it.

At least he can’t make that mistake a second time.

  


The city lays in ruins, torn at by furious gales and dust storms that had plucked every azalea from its bush and strewn them in Iwaizumi’s wake, his mind blank except for the practiced ease of every swing and throw. The ground is soaked red from the undiscerned slaughter, screams silenced the moment the wind steals them into the air, and there’s not an ounce of resistance to be found as the doors to the palace slam open of their own accord.

Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa’s mother is at his back, his footing fleet and assured as he ascends the stairs and finds every room empty. The coward’s already run.

He snarls, twisting about, and looks for the man he came for instead, the body he’d lain with and known far beyond bouts and tussles, and the wind lessens the further he goes in. She can’t help him here. Not anymore.

The longer he searches the more his anger dulls, throat tight and nose assaulted by the rich iron of blood he’d dragged with him into the stone. There’s a strong fragrance of the flowers from before and he breathes it in, wonders how Oikawa couldn’t have thought they’d use such a simple poison - for that’s what had ended his life, convulsing when he choked on his own vomit as he’d heard sneered by a soldier no longer alive - to be rid of a thorn in their side. Oikawa might’ve not had godly strength, wisdom, nor speed - but he had the hearts of the men, of cities, of the gods themselves if he pleased, and for taking his life they would _pay_.

Not even a city of the dead could raise him again, but it sure didn’t hurt to try.

Something draws him to a room he’d overlooked, just the tug of _Hajime_  as if whispered, and he enters with caution, sword poised to defend himself.

But there’s no one but the body of the prince he’d been looking for all along, not a day dead and already pale even against the silk sheets he’d been sleeping on at his death. Iwaizumi trips over his clattering sword as it hits the floor, the dulled anger from before resurfacing when he prays and presses his ear to Oikawa’s heart with a last hope--

Silence.

He swallows hard, bringing the peaceful looking man to his chest, and buries his nose into his hair, the fragrant scent of azaleas poisoning Oikawa’s natural musk and filling his nostrils with something other than the iron from before. It almost makes him sick. Almost, because he doesn’t want to let go of Oikawa, not yet, and there’s a knocking at the window.

Just a branch. But Iwaizumi knows better, heaves Oikawa up and supports the dead weight with all the strength he’s got left, leaving his sword on the floor as he carries him down the halls and stairways, the few wisps of the wind drawing him to the miraculously untouched courtyard. There’s not an azalea to be found. There’s gladiolus, lilies, and even tulips of varying shades - gifts from the gods, no doubt, with how they bloom so colorfully and well even with the familiar wind trying to tear at them.

Iwaizumi lays Oikawa on the grassy ground, kneeling beside him and brushing hair from his eyes.

“... Are you planning on taking his body away?” He asks, and the wind whispers.  


 _I am,_  she says, a grieving mother so raw and real. A breeze cools his hot cheeks and draws the tears from his eyes, but doesn’t pull at his clenching hands. _His spirit won’t rest otherwise._

“I know,” he replies, imaging for a moment it might be one of Oikawa’s tricks and he’ll peek open an eye, grin widening as he sticks out his tongue and laughs. The face remains as is, cold and beautifully so. “... He wouldn’t want me to go with him, would he.”  


The breeze plays at his hair, almost like it’s Oikawa himself, and Oikawa’s mother appears from between the rose bushes, skin as pale as his lover’s and twice as breathtaking; she might’ve given him a tongue, but she’d also birthed him as gorgeous as any god, and though it’d been years since Iwaizumi had last seen her he still felt his face flush. Oikawa had gotten his eyes from her too, large and brown, matched with the tree bark of her hair and pallor of her cheeks. She sits on the other side of the body, long fingers tracing his jaw with a sigh.

“No. I don’t think so. He’d want you to settle and live long for him.” Her voice felt like a summer’s breeze and sounded just as heavy, like there was a humid storm coming. It was always Oikawa’s favorite way to describe it too.  


“He’s selfish like that.”  


She hums in agreement. Iwaizumi leans down and presses an almost reproachfully soft kiss to the cold lips, lingering long enough to warm them and moving to the rest of him; his high cheek bones, the scar on his brow where he’d fallen as a child, down the slant of his face and there’s tears salting the skin, but Iwaizumi pays it little heed.

Oikawa had wanted peace. And he’d gotten it through the bloodshed he’d wanted to avoid, the world still as restless as his spirit the longer Iwaizumi delayed the inevitable.

He breathes in, remembers the earthy smells he’d become so used to beneath the soft perfume Oikawa liked to adorn (because Iwaizumi liked it even more than he did), and reluctantly scoots backwards, allowing the mother her time with him.

“Should you ever begin to resent him,” whistles against the petals of the garden, “then I’ll take you.”  


Iwaizumi feels the promise heavy in the words, as lightly as they’re said, and he wonders if resent is stronger than missing.

“Alright,” he says, and regrets answering as soon as he lifts his gaze and sees them both gone.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually read _the song of achilles_ two days beforehand to prepare for the magnitude of this line, thinking it was a romantic notion, spoken out of love in the middle of the night, only to be _crushed by a pair thousands of years old_ i am _ruined_. the story of achilles and patroclus (his companion/lover) is actually the set basis of what alexander the great and hephaestus were like as well, to the point where it was said they gave a visit to the grave where the two greek heroes are said to sleep to honor them and their relationship - signifying that their own was similar
> 
> just a bit of trivia


	48. a regret is a choice you didn't make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> closing in on their graduating year, oikawa asks a question that's heavier than he tries to make it sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day four: regrets

The volleyball leaves his fingers, light and carefree, and lands back on his palms with as much certainty as the question forming behind his lips. He does the relaxing exercise for a few more minutes and catches it, squeezing it tightly with a soft exhale.

“Iwa-chan,” he tries to keep it casual, nonchalant, just a normal, silly question hanging in the air, “is there anything you regret in life?”  


“Besides you?”  


He squawks, privately relieved at the usual response, and Iwaizumi sits backwards in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face.

“... Yeah, I’ve got some. They’re probably the same as yours, too.” Not winning against Karasuno. Not making it to Nationals. No last chance of grinding Ushiwaka’s face into the ground before they graduate, like they’d promised year after year. Oikawa hums, tossing the volleyball back up again, and figures Iwaizumi’ll go back to whatever it was he was doing before. But he doesn’t turn back around and Oikawa feels the prickling sensation of the dark eyes on him, though he doesn’t meet them. “And a few others, maybe. Or ones that could become regrets.”  


“Oh? Feeling a little like an old man already, Iwa-chan?” He teases, barely dodging a pencil and snorting loudly. “Like what? What kinda things could you _possibly_  have that might become regrets?”  


And Oikawa makes the mistake of looking at Iwaizumi then, the next joke dying on his tongue. His friend often watches him - and Oikawa knows, because he watches just as much - and there’s always a rare moment where it feels like there should be something more, less distance and more contact. But it’s always when they’re so far apart and this is one regret he has himself: That he can’t cross the space between them.

“Just this and that,” Iwaizumi grumbles, twisting back around to his desk and the restless tapping begins. Oikawa doesn’t think he realizes he does it either. “What about you?”  


“Plenty. Some of them _are_  the same as yours,” winning, going to a place they’ve only seen on television, grinding that _asshole’s_  face into the dust, “but I, Iwa-chan, have so much to live for and only so little time, so is it any wonder I’d have a lot?”  


“You're not the kind of person to want to leave any regrets though.”  


It’s true enough. Oikawa’s never liked to, not even when they were kids and climbing trees high enough to touch the sky with their grubby fingers - or so it’d felt - just because _what if they cut it down, Iwa-chan, what if someone does it before us_  and that’d be a regret he couldn’t swallow at the troublesome age of seven. Not now, even with the Spring High done for them and the rest of their third year closing in as well. He stretches his fingers taunt against the volleyball, tossing it up again, and glances at Iwaizumi.

“I guess that depends on if we’re going to the same college, Iwa-chan. If I’ll have any regrets.”  


Iwaizumi’s tapping ceases but he doesn’t turn. Oikawa watches his stiff shoulders, how he tries to relax them at the odd turn of conversation and fails in his puzzlement. “You haven’t decided?”

“I have time,” Oikawa lies, knowing full well he has people waiting on his answer even at this moment. He might not’ve gone to Nationals but he’s still well-known, wanted, a powerful asset to any team. “I know you’re looking at ones closer to home, but why don’t you just come to Tokyo with me? We can room together and play on the same team like always.”  


He knows it’s pretty selfish. Iwaizumi’s got his own future to think about, even if it might part from his best friend’s, and as much as he loves volleyball - and he does, he loves it as much as Oikawa without the intense need to be _remembered_  to be _known_  and the best out of all - it might not be end goal the way it is for the setter, who wants with every burning fiber of his being to play seriously against even stronger opponents. Maybe even worldwide.

“What’s that gotta do with your possible regrets?”  


Iwaizumi’s avoiding the question of _will you come with me?_  in offering of his own and Oikawa scowls slightly, the distance between his hand at the other’s back widening.

“A lot. They’re not the same as yours, and they’ll probably end up as regrets even if we _do_  go to the same place, so... don’t think too hard about it,” he answers airily, the volleyball going up into the air--  


“Do you like me?”  


\-- and falling right past his fingers, hitting him square in the face. Oikawa doesn’t even yelp. Just lay there frozen, the ball rolling off the bed and, coincidentally, to Iwaizumi’s heel. It’d been so casually asked, the same forcedness that he’d used to start off this (regretful) conversation, and Oikawa’s cheeks are hot when he presses his hands to them. Just to ease the pain of the ball. Not to cover them. Sure.

“What makes you think that, Iwa-chan? That’s so weird to ask~.” But Iwaizumi’s always caught the little nuances in his voice, his mood, and Oikawa’s mouth snaps shut when the other turns and he’s pink too, scowling lightly. He’s asking seriously. Oikawa breathes out, thankful for the distance now, and figures that the truth can’t ruin a decade’s worth of friendship: “Yes. I do.”  


One regret resolved.

Iwaizumi seems conflicted between being flattered - and he should be, honestly, the great Oikawa-san doesn’t like just _anyone_  in that particular meaning, reserved for something past infatuations - and confused, and Oikawa waits until it settles into wariness to speak up again.

“I’m not joking, Iwa-chan. But I’ll only say it this one, just so I won’t regret never telling you - I like you. I don’t care if you don’t like me that way back,” because it _is_  weird, looked down on, thought of as a clever joke everywhere but Oikawa’s mind, “so let’s not let it ruin what we have right now, mm? Iwa-chan’s my best friend forever. We swore on pinkies.”  


His best friend takes a moment - the longest pause in the history of _ever_  - and nods, leaning back on the desk. Maybe still unsure on how to reply. Well, with that out in the open, Oikawa honestly doesn’t feel so bad about Iwaizumi wanting to go to a college where he’s not there. The nerves crawl up, forgotten in the shock of the soft accusation from before, and he points at the volleyball.

Iwaizumi kicks it back towards him without asking, the tapping starting up again. “... That’s fine,” he seems to finally decide. “I don’t mind. You’re a pain in my ass either way,” Oikawa can’t stop a lecherous grin from stretching across his face, “but it’s not changing my decision about where I’m going.”

“Where’s that?”  


Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the other’s eagerness, stealing something out of his bag and tossing it at Oikawa. He barely gets to look at it before Iwaizumi’s speaking again. “The place you oughta accept too, dumbass. They’re really looking forward to having you there.”

Because not being around Oikawa would be weird. Because going for pro’s a pretty nice dream, and it’s not a regret Iwaizumi’d want if he had the chance to go for it. Oikawa’s smile falters and then grows again, vision blurring as he drops the letter aside and clutches the volleyball to his side.

“They’re really looking forward to having _us_  there,” he corrects with his warbling voice, relief exhausting his body and lifting a weight on his chest he hadn’t realized was there. “I wouldn’t have gone without you anyway, Iwa-chan. I’d hate to be in a new city alone.”  


“Moron,” affectionate and emotionally tight, “like I’d trust you to take care of yourself without some help.”  


Maybe one day, but Iwaizumi’d find a new excuse. Oikawa snorts, starting up a fit of laughter, and throws the volleyball at his friend’s head with a call of “Mean, Iwa-chan~!”

There might be new regrets from this. Especially with his feelings out in the open like that now. But _this_ Oikawa lives in the present and looks at the battles he has in front of him, never too far to lose his path and never too close to stumble over his own feet into some unexpected, and this is fine for now.


	49. from nothing to everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> looking back, iwaizumi never thought he'd be best friends with the weirdest kid he'd known at the time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day five: 'we are the warriors that built this town'

As a child, Oikawa was an odd boy.

He liked playing games of all kinds, but was unusually serious about winning them and always made a fuss about rules that were ‘forgotten’ or ‘broken’ because others thought they weren’t fun. He didn’t like losing either, and his eyes would swell with tears as he pulled the ugliest look Iwaizumi had ever seen on a kid trying not to cry, lip bitten and face splotching red. 

Oikawa had charmed every adult with his naturally rosy cheeks, fatter than most and dimpled when he smiled, and it seemed like he could always get his way and out of trouble. He had some weird thing for the horrifying sci-fi movies and Star Wars, the latter of which Iwaizumi liked too honestly, and would scare others with his stories of abduction and mysterious cow probings in Hokkaido.

But he was very honest. Not just about his likes, about his love of competition, but of others as well, and there became two camps of people: Those who would follow at his heel, finding him a better ally, and those who would turn their nose up at his childish haughtiness and challenge him at every step, thinking they could prove themselves better and leave a scathing remark first. There were very few people who just kind of stood in the middle, who didn’t really want to have anything to do with him in general (because Oikawa was absolutely at the center of this, like the wind that picks up leaves in the fall).

Iwaizumi had considered himself one of the last.

Had, because obviously ten years later he was still hanging out with Oikawa and dealing with every facet of that guy.

  


“I don’t know when it started,” he confesses to the picture of Oikawa that’d been so rudely shoved onto his desk when he’d moved into the new apartment, the other’s cheeks ruddy with delight and sunhat covering most of his brown curls. This was taken in their second year of high school, when Oikawa was waiting so eagerly to be a regular and it was _just around the corner, Iwa-chan, I’ll prove it to them this summer_ , and even at sixteen there’s an endearing pudginess to his face. “I don’t know when I made the mistake of becoming friends with a _dumbass_  like Oikawa.”  


Which is a lie. Oikawa retells the tale so much every friend they have between them’ll probably recount it to their kids as a _bedtime story_. There’s always some embellished differences that Iwaizumi corrects, much to the snickers of anyone around, but it stays more or less the same.

  


“It was during summer, a week before my birthday, and _naturally_ I had handcrafted every invitation to give to the other kids,” Oikawa gushes, eyes bright and faraway down memory lane. Iwaizumi groans and sinks in his seat, knowing it’s gonna be a long night with so little alcohol to dull the embarrassment. “I decided that it’d be a sleepover too, since I was turning eleven and wanted one. I worked _hours_  on them! Hours, as a child!”  


And children never like to sit still for long, much less _hours_. Oikawa had been even more unbearable then too.

“So I lay them out on every desk during lunch - after getting permission from the teacher, of course - and run out to play like usual. I was swarmed by choices in games and people who all liked to play with me, but I ended up running into a tree during hide-and-seek and had to stay in the infirmary until the end of school. I was sad that I wouldn’t be able to see the happiness on everyone’s face at the thought of being invited to my party,” because _obviously_  they would be, “but I saw that every desk had been cleared by the time I went to pick up my stuff from the class and was super excited for the weekend to come.”  


He pauses then, eyeing his audience and gauging their interest, to see when and what he needs to embellish. Iwaizumi thinks to hail another beer down and starts to raise his hand, only to lower it when his friend starts again - Oikawa didn’t like being interrupted.

“So here comes the weekend. I wake up bright and early, before the sun’s even risen, and be on my best behavior. The party starts around one in the afternoon, so I’ve got time to spare, and I spend most of it fidgeting and alone.”  


Iwaizumi doesn’t know how much of it’s true, since he hadn’t been there then, but considering it’s always the same no matter how many times the other tells it it’s probably the straight truth. It’s easy to imagine too. Ruddy cheeked Oikawa, who never knew how to rest, not for a moment, attempting to distract himself from the puddles the rain had left over night, sprawling across his bed as the sun crept across the sky, watching anything and everything on the television just to pass the time. The picture of solitude, obedience, and boredom.

“It hits twelve and Mom’s just finishing up decorating the cake. Twelve thirty and I’ve got my face pressed against the window. I vaguely recall that there’d be rain on my birthday, too, but since we’d be staying inside the whole time I didn’t think it’d matter. Then, without warning, there comes this low, unmistakable noise, one that rolls down the street and can’t be muffled by the glass - a summer storm.” and his voice lowers, becomes the rumbling of the thunder he speaks about, and Iwaizumi finds himself transfixed once more. Doesn’t matter how many times he’s heard it, how many times he’ll correct it the longer it goes on, Oikawa’s _always_ been a story teller. “It brings a sudden rain, twenty minutes before my party starts, and with the warning of flash floods we start to get calls.”  


  


_It’s too dangerous, Hajime_ , Iwaizumi remembers his mom saying. _You shouldn’t go. I’m sure Tooru and Oikawa-san are thinking the same thing._

But he’d wanted to go anyway, since Oikawa’s house wasn’t that far down and he wasn’t afraid of _anything_  back then.

(”Brave, strong Iwa-chan,” Oikawa would always sigh when he’d comment on it, fond and warm. Iwaizumi always found his bottle more interesting than the amused looks Hanamaki and Matsukawa would shoot him each time.)

So Iwaizumi had gone anyway, climbing out his window with his present wrapped in a plastic bag, not fearing the shower in his raincoat and boots. Lightning might’ve scared any other child, the thunder send them scurrying home or into a corner to hide, but Iwaizumi had turned twelve over a month ago and was still invincible. Oikawa was a pretty cool kid - energetic in a way he liked to play with, loved volleyball with every inch of his being the way Iwaizumi did himself, had a certain gravity that pulled him in anyway - and besides, who’d wanna spend their birthday alone?

Even if they weren’t friend-friends. Teammates, but not friends.

This might’ve been his mistake, thinking back. Running through a storm that warned of flash floods and the promise of nothing but trouble with lightning frequent above him, loud claps of thunder covering his splashed steps, all to wish some stupid, snotty, whiny baby of a boy he wouldn’t have considered a friend happy birthday.

  


Oikawa’s always been a bunch of trouble from the start, Iwaizumi decides first at the restaurant with his friends on the night of their graduation and later when he’s sitting alone in his apartment, staring at the grinning photograph that’d been shoved off on him.

But after ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty years of knowing the guy when they hit that milestone, Iwaizumi feels like it’s not that bad, can’t bring himself to regret the day he’d strode against the storm and knocked on the door, only to be greeted with that ugly, snotty, crying face of Oikawa’s, the one he’d make fun of in his head and then openly when it was just them.

  


“Happy birthday,” Iwaizumi mutters, barely heard under the rain. Oikawa sniffles, tears swelling up, and drags the other boy inside, calling to his mom about who it was.  


_The mean friend I keep telling you about_ , or so Oikawa had described him. _Iwa-chan._

Oikawa’s mom thanks him for coming (the table looked so pitiful, twenty plates crammed on the surface with a birthday hat on each and the cake in the middle) and called his mom to let her know where he was, while Oikawa hadn’t let go of Iwaizumi’s hand once as he showed him around the house and finally gave him some dry clothes to change into - the storm had slipped beneath his protective coat, soaking him, and Iwaizumi gave him the present in return.

“They’re new shoes,” Iwaizumi grumbles, knowing it was his mom who’d picked it out. Oikawa’s sweater is warm but itchy on his skin and he scratches at it like he’s not embarrassed at how the other’s face is staring in awe at a stupid box, miraculously untouched by rain. “Not for volleyball though. They light up.”  


“-- They do?!”  


Iwaizumi nods, plucking at the scratchy fabric, and Oikawa closes his curtains, turns off his lift, and shuts the door. The rain’s still pouring, but all Iwaizumi can see is the different glow in the dark things his teammate’s got, from sticker stars to figures of the aliens he liked to talk so much about.

 _Weirdo_ , he thinks, but it’s not a bad thing.

The shoes smack loudly on the ground just as thunder drums above them, casting off colorful lights after the brightest strike of the afternoon, and Oikawa grins widely, eyes reflecting a rainbow. It’s pretty.

  


“-- Then Iwa-chan stayed the night with me too, kicking and tossing and turning. I almost fell off the bed _three times_ ,” Oikawa sighs, pushing ice around with his straw. Iwaizumi blinks back to attention, scoffing.  


“You did that to _me_ , you moron.” Oikawa yelps when he’s shoved, and Iwaizumi jerks a thumb at the man beside him. “He kicks like a mule in bed.”  


“Well, I woke up being strangled, so it’s only fair!”  


That part’s true. Iwaizumi had been fighting a worm-like dragon thing, and Oikawa happened to be playing his enemy. He shrugs, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You deserved it for the bruises I woke up with, you ass.”

The man scowls, shoving back, but doesn’t deny it this time. There’s a rosiness to his cheeks that Iwaizumi doesn’t remember, there’s no alcohol nearby, and he looks questioningly at the other two.

“He’s been like that since he started on your valiant quest against the hurricane,” Matsukawa helpfully supplies, wincing at the end.  


Undeterred by the promise of pain, Hanamaki finishes it. “You’ve had your hand on his thigh for like, ten minutes now too.”

Iwaizumi jerks it away, fisting his shirt with a look at mirrors Oikawa’s, and hisses out _you two are paying_  before they burst into laughter.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks Oikawa in a low voice, cheeks heating up. “I would’ve moved it.”  


“I kind of wanted to see how long you’d be squeezing my thigh, Iwa-chan, there _are_  better ways to ask me out.”  


“Fuck you.”  


“And I didn’t mind it,” Oikawa breathes out, soft and quick. “You kept touching me when I’d bring up how hard it was raining.”  


Because Oikawa never liked storms as a child. The thunder was too loud, it drummed in his head more than it did others, and Iwaizumi had found that out when he’d slept over. He’d ended up covering Oikawa’s ears with his hands and then his arms to make it more comfortable for them both, thus starting the threat of the morning strangulation.

  


Friendship’s a weird thing. All it’d taken was one night that turned into two, three, seven then ten _years_ , and it left Iwaizumi staring blankly at the photograph, a sigh on his lips.

“It came out of nowhere,” he mutters to reassure himself there was no way to prevent it, pretending he doesn’t hear the click of the front door as Oikawa attempts to sneak in for the fifth time that month. “I couldn’t have stopped it. It would’ve happened anyway. Oikawa’s a bastard like that.”  


“I _heard that,_  Iwa-chan. Are you talking to my picture again? Creepy~.”

“It’s better company than you. Pretty, genuine, _and_  it doesn’t talk back.”  


Oikawa frowns at him from the door, sticking out his tongue, and proceeds to the kitchen for his latest attempt at dinner. He’s not a _bad_  cook, but Iwaizumi’s still glad he remembered to buy more stomach pills just in case the recipe seems ‘boring’ and the other wants to ‘spice it up’ for Iwaizumi’s birthday this year.

Yeah, friendship’s weird - especially with Oikawa, who still hates storms, drags Iwaizumi to see the new scifi movie no matter what it’s about, and takes every game (even the one they’d invented for deciding chores) a little too seriously. But it’s not entirely bad, he thinks five minutes before Oikawa slices his finger open, it’s fun.


	50. melt in your mouth love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's such an annoying nickname. it really, _really_ is, even if he's used to it, but the way oikawa says _iwa-chan_ these days is enough to make him change his mind about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day six: ‘When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.’

“Iwa-chan,” like cotton candy, how it melts in your mouth at the very touch of warmth. Iwaizumi never liked sweet things. But maybe he can make an exception, let himself be taken in by chocolate from white to dark, kisses that make his teeth hurt, with an energy high lasting hours after the tantalizing taste left his mouth. Oikawa grins widely, leans closer in bed and noses his cheek. “You look like you’re about to burst.”  


“Look who’s talking, dumbass,” but Iwaizumi has nothing but a choking amount of affection for the other, closing his eyes to hide his wild heart. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gonna keel over?”

“I might. This is our first night in our new apartment, after all~.”  


“Just don’t leave a stain.”  


Oikawa chuckles, breathing in, and he feels the other’s fingers thread through his hair. It’s nice. Iwaizumi usually does it to him in the first place, transforming the overconfident and smug man into a keening dog, but it’s not bad having the tables turned.

“Iwa-chan,” softer than he’s used to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Just hums curiously. Whatever it is can wait until morning, can’t it? When they’re unpacking boxes and sorting out what they need and what they can put away? “Do you think we could just have one room?”

“... We’ve got two,” Iwaizumi replies, confused. There’s no reply for a moment and he squints at his friend, who looks like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

“I mean--” _Definitely_  trying not to laugh, since he clears his throat and takes another moment, a few hiccuping out from time to time. “Let’s sleep in one room!”  


Iwaizumi takes all of him in - from his rosy cheeks to the brightness in his eyes, crinkled at the edge with sincerity in his request - and flicks his forehead. “Not a chance. I’m not gonna have you digging your cold feet into my fucking knees every night, asshole.”

“I’m willing to put up with your very violent sleeping tendencies, so put up with mine! They’re _harmless_!”  


They hold a staring contest then, Oikawa with puffed cheeks and Iwaizumi with a stern look, but if there’s one thing he’s always lost it was this. Only because the younger - forty days is _so_  important, especially when he’s five centimeters shorter and can hold this above Oikawa at least - would swallow hard, hunch his shoulders in, and swell his eyes with tears.

It was so _cheap_. It was always, _always_  the same, yet Iwaizumi falls for it _every fucking time._ The man’s some kind of genius. Or has him trained. Whichever it is, he sees it happen in slow motion - Adam’s apple bobbing, drawing into himself, long eyelashes blinking back tears, and then--

“Please, Iwa-chan?” The slightest tremor, quiet and unsure, and Iwaizumi hates himself when he realizes his hands are hooked around Oikawa’s back, chin on the top of his head, and he’s rubbing this thumb into the thin fabric of the other’s shirt. It’s all a single, smooth reaction, had been for years, and there’s nothing weird to him about it. It’s just what calms Oikawa down the fastest.  


“I really hate you, Oikawa,” and the other just nods, nuzzling closer in that pleased manner that’s always reminded him of a satiated cat. “The moment you stick your toecicles anywhere near me is when I shove you out of bed, got it?”  


“Yes, Iwa-chan~. You’ll probably choke hold me before then anyway.”  


Iwaizumi _hmph_ s, ignores the toes already leaning their way into his calves, and decides that if Oikawa’s gonna sleep with him, they’re gonna get up at the same time too. And no amount of sweet _Iwa-chans_  (and the rare, soft _Hajime_  that sends shivers down his spine and throws his heart out of rhythm) can change his mind about that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end of my chapter spam haha. i really couldn't think of anything for day seven so i was like "i won't sweat it"!! let's look forward to next [iwaoi](http://iwaoiweek.tumblr.com/post/119293529753/double-the-iwaoi-double-the-fun-monday-june-8th) week too!
> 
> this is also my fiftieth chapter!! yay for me!!! i write too much!!


	51. blood pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a pact done when they were children makes hiding things from each other _very_ hard
> 
> oikawa wishes he could run away, but the string keeps pulling him back

It’s like an incessant tug to Tooru, but even with the dying embers of anger between them he hesitates at the door. Iwaizumi doesn’t even glance at him, eyes far away as they stare at the words beneath the slanted shadow, and the brunet exhales softly, hoping to escape the other’s notice.

“Come to apologize?” Iwaizumi asks, not with malice or any bitterness. Wary, concern in traces, and Tooru clears his throat.  


“I have nothing to apologize for,” he reaffirms, and knows from the stiffening of Iwaizumi’s shoulders it’s not the right answer. But he really doesn’t feel like he does. It’d been a stupid argument that belied a deeper one, and _that’s_  the one that should be addressed, but Tooru’s always been stubborn and Iwaizumi’s always been the same. He stays quiet a moment more, hoping that the other’ll speak, and squeezes the doorway more. “... I don’t like being without you, though.”  


He knows Iwaizumi feels the tug too, is doing his best to resist it, and that only makes their argument from before more pronounced.

“What do you want me to do about it, Oikawa? I’m not just giving up my life so you can have yours.” Metaphorically, he knows, but it still strikes a moment of panic into his heart. Iwaizumi turns a discerning eye on him and there’s just the barest of centimeters he leans forward, but it’s enough to make Tooru hope that they can just forget it and be close again. “We’re not tied _that_ close,” he murmurs, frown softening a little.  


“I know.” Then, stronger. “I _know_ , Iwa-chan, but I...”  


_Can’t help it,_  the words hang between them. A pact they’d made when they were young hand spiraled into so much more, blood mingling in their veins, and with every beat of his ( _their_ ) heart Tooru just wanted more, more, more. Iwaizumi grips the page a little too hard and it tears slightly, the sound breaking the tension as Tooru looks for tape and hands it off to him, jerking when their fingers brush.

“... We can talk about it another time,” Iwaizumi sighs, tousling Tooru’s hair and pinching his cheek affectionately. It doesn’t hurt at all. “I’ll be in bed soon.”  


He nods, starting to move away, but the invisible string tugs at him to a stop. Iwaizumi’s already returned to ( _not_ ) reading and Tooru watches his tensed back. Then, very hesitantly, he kneels behind the other and rests his cheek against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, sighing slightly as he wraps his arms around his waist. _Silly Iwa-chan._

“You don’t want me to go to bed, Iwa-chan,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and hugging Iwaizumi. The smile comes unbidden as his partner relaxes and he can feel their joined hearts beating in time, from every quick step to the gentle slowness that’s close to sleep. “I can feel what you do too.”  


“You always the speak up about the most embarrassing parts,” Iwaizumi replies, setting his pencil down.

But not moving otherwise. Tooru huffs laughter, nuzzling into his shoulder, and his smile widens when he feels the familiar hands cup around his.

“That’s because you won’t~.” He shifts, loosening his grip, and he breathes out his next words. “You can keep doing whatever it is you were doing.”  


A small peace offering in exchange for the one given before. Iwaizumi grunts, leaning back, and shakes his head. _This is fine,_  his heart beats. _You’ll find some way to distract me anyway_.

Tooru exhales softly, feeling the steady thump under his cheek and in his own. It’s a nice of an excuse as any to be close. Even if the issue’s not resolved (and won’t be until he gives in and admits to what Iwaizumi already knows) it’s nice, and he decides that _yes_ , it can come later.

Running away’s tiring anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi! i'm so close to 500 kudos (and i'll probably nab that soon enough) so i'd just like to once again say thank you! if you ever wanna chat it up, my twitter's [ekstermi](http://www.twitter.com/ekstermi) and you can pop me asks on my writing blog @[genkigratification](http://genkigratification.tumblr.com) or my personal blog @[inthenyxoftime](http://inthenyxoftime.tumblr.com)!
> 
> thank you for all your support again!


	52. love = sights you never get tired of, ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after sex, oikawa decides his second wind should be put to proper use by pampering his sweet iwa-chan a little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pwp mostly ahahaha requested at [genkigratification](http://genkigratification.com/ask), my writing blog, so if you'd like to request anything go on ahead too!! good w/pretty much anything

It’s a sight Oikawa will never get tired of.

Even long after their rambunctious activities, Iwaizumi is the pinnacle of power and comfort, warm arms wrapped around his waist and an adorable button nose nuzzling into his neck. It’s just so domestic that he can only sigh softly at it, a warm tightening in his chest at the knowledge that (for now) he’s the only one that gets to see this, that _owns_  this sight, and a smirk curls his lips at the persistent thought.

Possessiveness was always one of his worse traits, maybe. Over anything he cared about. But it’s only natural to be aggressive over things you want to protect and keep, right? Only natural.

“Iwa-chan,” he calls, fingers trailing from the strong curve of Iwaizumi’s shoulder to the gentler one of his hip (scarcely there, not like his own, but still so pleasurable to grab), and repeats the nickname when his boyfriend stirs reluctantly. “Iwa-chan, wake up.”  


“I _was_  awake already. Why the hell aren’t _you_ sleeping?” Iwaizumi groans, pushing his head further into Oikawa’s collarbones and sighing into them. He barely represses the shiver. “You’re usually knocked out.”  


“I had a second wind looking at you.”  


There’s a pause before the other squints up at him, scooting back to no doubt observe the validity of that statement. Oikawa just grins with wide eyes, knowing Iwaizumi loves the openness of their afterglow, and nuzzles Iwaizumi’s nose with his own.

“Iwa-chan, we didn’t use a condom this time. It was painful, wasn’t it Iwa-chan? How hard I was on you tonight?” He coos, watching the thick eyebrows come together in annoyance. “But you felt _so good_ , Iwa-chan! It really is a different experience. And you kept it in so well too. You haven’t emptied yourself, have you?”  


“It’s only been a few minutes, you piece of shit, what the hell are you trying to pull?”  


Then it’s still fine. Oikawa shakes his head, pressing a kiss Iwaizumi tiredly relents to immediately, words forming through the warmth of their lips. “I just want to do something for you, Iwa-chan, since you always clean me up. I’ll be gentle, okay?”

Iwaizumi squints at him again (it’s really so cute, how he narrows his eyes so flat depending on how annoyed he is) and draws back a little. “I don’t trust you.”

“You should! The ever kind Oikawa-san would _never_  hurt his darling Iwa-chan!”  


“The _ever kind Oikawa-san_  bound, gagged, and left me for half an hour with a vibrator in my ass last week as part of _my_ birthday gift.”  


“You seemed pretty happy with the result~.”  


Iwaizumi growls, cheeks reddening, and Oikawa kisses each one, sliding his hand to the small of the other’s back and rubbing it gently. It works like a charm, softening the irritated, embarrassed expression.

They had cake after that surprise. It’d been delicious, even if most of it got in Oikawa’s hair.

He’s a patient man though, and if his adorable hedgehog of a boyfriend wouldn’t come around immediately he had already planted the seed of _Oikawa_  actually doing some aftercare that didn’t involved just petting and cooing. He can see the gears working through Iwaizumi’s worn mind:

Oikawa would be handling everything.

He wouldn’t be moving, probably.

If he gives in, it’ll probably be nice. Relaxing. Something he can sleep off, because Oikawa’s still the kind of guy to do that after sex - third wind be damned.

Iwaizumi blows out of his mouth (he’s won) and stares expectantly at Oikawa, who merely smiles.

“You can stay where you are, Iwa-chan, I just need you to curl up a little more.”  


It doesn’t take much more persuasion (rimming isn’t anything new, though Iwaizumi tells his too awake boyfriend that if he _dares_  to wriggle his tongue in like he’s so fond of doing it’s going to come off) before Oikawa’s under the covers, mouth working fresh marks into the tan skin of his hip and nails cresting into his thigh, Iwaizumi tense against the sheets and no doubt biting back the sensitive sounds. Oikawa works his way down, whetting his appetite with the salt left behind.

Delicious.

“You’re my favorite meal of the day,” he whispers, wincing slightly at the kick he receives. “I’m only telling the truth, Iwa-chan.”  


“Shut up and do whatever it is you want.” The angry complaint’s offset by the obvious strain in Iwaizumi’s voice and Oikawa clicks his tongue. “I’m serious. I wanna sleep.”  


“Impatient, Iwa-chan.”  


But that’s the best _get on with it_  he’s gonna get as permission and he wastes no time at all, fingers clenching Iwaizumi’s ass cheeks apart and pressing his tongue to the current center of his world, humming softly at the heat, the shiver he can _feel so well_  like this inspiring his own, and it’s a little salty to taste.

 _He’s_ a little salty to taste, Oikawa realizes then, laughing a little as he dines on a second helping, scraping his tongue against Iwaizumi as cum leaks out with every contraction.

“Shitshit _shit_ ” which just serves as more encouragement, the curses stuttering when he presses his lips around the dark circle and _sucks in_ , drawing out words and his own cum with some persistence. It’s hard at this angle and he knows if he got Iwaizumi to lay on his back it’d be ten times easier, but he _did_ say that his boyfriend wouldn’t have to move. “ _Oikawa_ , what the hell.”

“Aftercare,” he breathes into the heat, lapping leisurely enough to make Iwaizumi groan in frustration. “Do you like it?”  


The only response is Iwaizumi’s panted groan and a jerked kick into his torso. Oikawa wheezes, biting his boyfriend’s ass gently before getting back to dessert and wriggling his tongue in. It’s never _enough_  but it’s _fine–_

 _Even if my chest is a picture of denial of that_ , he thinks as he coughs again, grappling Iwaizumi’s legs with an arm to pin them there.

“Now now Iwa-chan, play nice or I’ll stop. And you don’t want that, do you? Don’t you want me to take care of you?” Iwaizumi’s breath hitches and Oikawa _swears_  his ass pushes closer, shoved right into his face, and Iwaizumi smells like sex and sweat. It’s delicious. It’s fantastic. It’s enough to make _him_  groan, burying his nose just above the wet hole and breathing in deeply. “ _God,_  Iwa-chan, you smell _so good_.”  


“Don’t you fucking _dare_  say that embarrassing shit, you jackass.”  


“And– And! You taste even better, Iwa-chan, I could–” Iwaizumi somehow manages to dig a heel into Oikawa’s stomach and he laughs in pain, knowing it’s justice for what he did before. No wriggling, no wriggling. “I could do this all day, Iwa-chan, you know that?”  


Iwaizumi huffs something out and it’s too soft (pillowed?) to hear, but Oikawa’s positive it’s something along the lines of “ _Just keep going, asshole_ ” and, well, who is he to deny his sweet boyfriend anything? Another lavish lick before he really digs in, cleaning as far in as his tongue’ll reach before squeezing a finger inside, laughter waning at the tightness that’d been around him not ten minutes before.

Not a word as he gently scrapes the inside of his boyfriend’s ass, drawing out the cum and leaving the other gasping into the pillow as the sensitivity reaches another high at the meticulous grooming.

“Oh~? Iwa-chan, it looks like you’re starting to get hard again~? I didn’t know you’d be so into this…!”  


“Shut up,” rasped and followed by pants as Iwaizumi tries to hold himself together, glaring under the blanket at Oikawa. The brunet just lifts a brow, blows against the sensitive hole and sucks oh-so-gently on it, hand reaching around to grasp Iwaizumi’s hardened cock and pump it. “– Oh _fuck_ , why do you _always_  have to do this?!”  


“Because it’s fun. And I’d hate to have a dick up my ass when you’re spooning me.”  


Iwaizumi laughs darkly, squeezing his eyes shut against every scrape and breathing out as the blankets fall. “Liar. You love it.”

Oikawa grins. He does. It’s always fun to grind back against him and make it worse, or at least until his boyfriend’s sick of it and kicks him out of bed.

But not today. No, today Iwaizumi gets the day off and Oikawa’s the one doing the work, getting some spit on his palm before going back to it and relishing in the shortness of breath from above. It’d be soon then.

Should he delay it? Would that be fun for Iwaizumi too? So worked up like he is now, sheets pinned taunt between them, it’d be so easy and fun for _him_ , but this was for Iwaizumi. Oikawa considers it, slowing his touch to a glide, and gets a heel in his side as the response.

 _No,_  it says. _Not today._

He huffs playfully, kissing Iwaizumi’s inner thigh and blowing softly on the heated skin between his sack and asshole, rewarded with another heel in his ribs - though this one’s just involuntary, pressing hard before it shifts to where it can reach on his back. Makes his job the tiniest bit harder. But this is fine.

“Do you know what I love even more, Iwa-chan?” He drawls leisurely, easing back into a comfortable rhythm for his wrist. His only reply’s a grunt, and at this point it’s all he could ask for. His grip tightens and pace increases, the jerking heel pulling against him _so good_  even as it digs in, pressing hard and painfully into his spine, and Oikawa laughs breathlessly. “I love _you_.”  


“ _Fuck_ ,” he hears from above the blankets, the rest mouthed like he knows Iwaizumi does when he comes undone like this. Oikawa figures it’s getting into his hair when he moves around to lap up every spilled drop, but that’s fine. Iwaizumi likes it when he’s got some on him like that. Likes to wash it out himself, fingers curling and rubbing shampoo hard into his roots, and Oikawa shudders at the future thought.  


He pops out of the blankets once he’s done, achingly hard himself, and his plan to kiss his boyfriend is foiled by a solid palm to his nose.

“No. No kissing. Go brush your teeth take care of yourself, I’m too tired to deal with more of you.”  


Oikawa tuts and kisses Iwaizumi’s palm instead, grinning against the hot skin when his fingers flinch. “Okay, okay. I’ll do laundry when we’re all well-rested too, okay?”

Iwaizumi grunts and his eyes slide shut, face relaxing and hand held up only by Oikawa’s. He kisses it again, from finger to finger, and only stops when they tweak his nose affectionately. Slips from the bed with a grumble, though he can’t stop the smile stretching across his face at the utterly peaceful look on Iwaizumi’s.


	53. aurora borealis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on christmas eve, oikawa's present is honestly the cheapest thing hajime's ever known from him. yet it's still oddly _him_ in a way he can't quite describe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [like perennials](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4259298), a beautiful and wonderful fic by [tothemoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tothemoon/pseuds/tothemoon). please read it!! but it's not wholly required. it'll make things hilarious in hindsight tho
> 
> it's also for the author haha merry christmas justy!! i love you so very much ♥

It is Christmas, December 25th, in Lapland, Finland, when Hajime finds himself laying in one of the igloos offered by Hotel Kakslauttanen to watch the brilliant lightshow above the thermal glass, heat trapped within the criss-crossed walls that curve above him and Oikawa. The other’s hands are on his stomach, folded like they have all the time in the world, and as jumper (though not official hunters, not yet) they technically do, Hajime guesses. The illusion of it anyway. It’s not their first jump together ( _lavender and sunlight spilling across the horizon, two eleven year old boys swearing a vow unbroken with hands clasped beneath the petals_ ) or their last, but it’s still nice, it’s still pleasant, it’s something Hajime’ll probably never forget no matter how old he gets.

He thinks that maybe the two of them should be spending it else how, two seventeen year old boys laying on separate beds staring at the same sight, and Hajime denies the thought of how there’s not really anyplace else he’d rather be in trade for one that says there’s nowhere that the two of them are really needed right now, anyway, when Oikawa voices his thoughts with laughter at the edge of his words, a tease implied within the boundaries of each one.

“It was your idea in the first place, dumbass,” he replies back, forcing the heat rising back down and ignoring the catch of a smile from the corner of his eye. “You said you didn’t want to jump without me.”  


“I don’t,” all earnest and cheekily so, two words that gets Hajime to turn his head to see what’s in store. Oikawa’s still entranced by the aurora borealis above, the colors dancing in vibrant shades of greens that remind Hajime of Aobajousai’s more aqua leaf, but Hajime finds he can’t look away from the sight before him either as the next words come out slow and wondering. “Do you think there’ll ever be a time where we don’t jump together, Iwa-chan? That we’ll be apart?”  


“Of course,” because they’re both going to be bounty hunters (though Oikawa seems to sink when he’s reminded of it, brushing off things with a laugh and musings that direct away). But that’s where he ends it, at _of course_ , because of what’s implied within.  


“Mm,” Oikawa hums instead, laced fingers tightening. “Of course.”  


At seventeen years old, three months before graduation and half a year before summer, Hajime has no idea why Oikawa counts the days like they’re numbered, why he avoids anything deeper than what they’ll be doing in the summer, how they’ll be spending their time and where they’ll jump to next, but he’s sure that it’s for some stupid reason, something only Oikawa could think about and worry his lip over, and though he knows this logically Hajime still finds it in himself to speak up and linger on the edge of the conversation.

(Because he’s never the first to pull away.)

“But even if we do, we’ll still... You know. We’ll still be together.”  


Putting it in words like that, so out in the open, still makes Hajime burn. It’s nice to innately know, to remind in small touches and quiet understanding, but it’s another to speak it out loud.

Oikawa’s laugh is cut off by Hajime’s pillow, the whine muffled behind it.

“Iwa-chaaan, you’re ruining the mood!”  


“What mood?”  


Oikawa tuts like he should know and keeps the pillow for himself, squeezing it to his chest with a long sigh. “Nevermind, you brute. If you don’t get it then you don’t get it.”

Hajime tries to pretend like it doesn’t bother him and at least puts it out of mind, back against the sheets and eyes gazing at the expanse of waving lights above.

He checks the time ( _00:05 AM, it blinks_ ) and sighs himself, hands clasping on his stomach to mimic his best friend’s.

“So,” he starts, “is this all you wanted to show me?”  


“I was thinking we could go to the park around here and ride in a sleigh pulled by reindeer too, _but_ ,” the last word’s said deliberately, annoyance marring the otherwise cheerful tone, “yes, Iwa-chan. This is it.”  


To be fair, it does hold the same wonder as any other place they’ve seen. _Though nothing’ll beat the lavender fields_ , Hajime swears to himself, the memory bringing back the scent in a sudden flood.

“... It’s nice,” he finally says, and Oikawa snorts.  


“Your lack of articulation is really endearing at times, Iwa-chan--”  


Ended with a yelp as Hajime throws the second pillow at him, now left with nothing. It’s added to Oikawa’s finished fortress (like they’re kids again, peering out of the pillows waiting for their mom to come in for an ambush) and the brunet peers over it like old times, catching Hajime’s eye after a moment.

“What?”  


“Nothing. I’m just musing to myself.” Oikawa slides back behind the small stack, then peers over it again. Hajime feels a twitch in his eye start. “About how we could jump to a century earlier than this one and see what it looked like then, too.”  


“It’s probably the same.”

The other watches him and Hajime already has a _feeling_  of what’s coming next, tightening his gut and his hand swiftly rises between them. “And we’re _not_  seeing what it’s like in the future.”

“You’re really no fun, Iwa-chan,” he replies half-heartedly, laying his cheek on the pillows with a smile. “I bet there’s nothing there anyway. Global warming’s going to make all of it go south.”  


Hajime huffs a laugh and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Is this the present you’ve been keeping a secret from me, by the way?”

“And if it was?”  


“You’re a cheapskate.”  


Oikawa laughs now, breathing out a sigh. “What’s yours?”

“Back home.” He can hear the whine of disappointment before it even begins. “I’m not jumping with it, idiot. It’s back home on your bed. You’ll open it tomorrow like everyone else.”  


“Fine, fine, I give.” Though _not forever_ , the tone promises as much as it warns, and Hajime rubs his forehead as he reopens his eyes to the aurora borealis.  


The shades seem to dissipate and move with the wind, fading and dulling in some instances and returning vibrantly the next. Like Oikawa himself, maybe, a myth in the making with the jumping skills he’s got.

(Hajime swears not to fall behind.)

“Merry Christmas, Iwa-chan,” he hears like a faraway call, lavender in his nose.  


“Sure,” he replies just as distantly, “you too.”  



	54. take me easy take me slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even when they get hot and heavy iwaizumi and oikawa are still sweet on each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by an anon on my [writing blog!!](genkigratification.tumblr.com) thank you very much!! pwp is fun

Oikawa’s not sure how much more he can stand. He wheezes, sides aching every time he moves, yet still manages to smirk and give a (in his opinion) cute quip.

“You sure– are taking your time, Iwa-chan,” he huffs out, unsatisfied with the grunt that the other replies with. “Can’t get enough of me?”  


“What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi’s thumb grazes across the crown of his dick and Oikawa bites so hard on his lip he leaves it tasting blood. “I get too much of you already,” he adds on, voice strained and heavy, “I’m gonna overdose.”  


“How morbid.”  


His friend laughs, hitching when Oikawa shoves down on him and a whine works it way out of his own throat at the _fullness_  he loves so much, resting his forehead against the broad shoulder of the other and settling in. They breath in opposites - inhale, exhale, in, out - before Iwaizumi’s low whisper trembles in his ear and Oikawa shivers with it. “Ready to go?”

“ _You’re_  the one who’s–” And he’s cut off by his own hiss, the friction something he’s never tired off, and laughs at Iwaizumi’s mumble of how he talks too much. “It’s your fault for– ah, ha, not gagging me this time, Iwa-chan.”  


“I like the way you say my name too much for that.” The sincerity of it does so much more than Iwaizumi would ever expect, Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat and a warmth unattributed to their current activity clenching around his heart, though the other’s next words splash cool water on his fire. “Though I’m starting to regret it.”

“That’s _so mean_ , Iwa-chan,” and for added measure he repeats the name, noting the tenseness of the fingers at his hips with the three syllables, and decides to see if a new one’ll work. “ _Ha-ji-me~_.”  


The breathlessness even gets himself worked up, eyes squeezing shut with every rougher thrust, and he strangles out more laughter that’s soon muffled into the palm of his hand as it’s replaced with moans and whimpers, shoving all of himself back into Iwaizumi’s lap in a choppy rhythm that just barely misses their usual. But it’s still good. It’s still _really good_ , makes Oikawa press their foreheads together and kiss Iwaizumi, welcoming the lips and teeth that clack against his in the moment, sliding his hand into the short cut hair and pressing him closer.

It’s times like these that Oikawa truly appreciates that bond the other knocks down.

Iwaizumi can feel his body, read his moods through movements, pushes right where he needs to be and teases it in the way only he can; it’s not _teasing_  in the sense of how Oikawa’d do it, bring it to the edge and then draw it back, but it makes him want more and more of the other, to be secure and still in motion, the brand of flirting that’s more towards a full rush than a gentle climb, an endearing sincerity and care that he loves to know he deserves, a never ending waterfall of something sweet and intoxicating that makes Oikawa’s head light enough to find that _zen_  that’s talked about on television. It’s just… an experience that he can’t get enough of.

When his delirious mind puts it like that he can’t help but squeeze out a little hiccuped laugh, licking his lips and Iwaizumi’s by proxy of their closeness, and the burning intensifies as they close in on release.

There’s no word of warning, which Iwaizumi complains about and Oikawa mumbles something about not being able to speak, but it’s still good, it’s still just right, and Oikawa loosens his grip first, reaching for tissues to clean up with and kissing Iwaizumi all the while. Soft, sweet, warm kisses.

His _favorite_.

“I,” he starts, gasping when Iwaizumi chases his lips and silences him for a moment. All Oikawa can hear is his heartbeat before the pressure fades and it’s gentle once more, his words slipping out seamlessly this time. “I love you, Iwa-chan.”  


Iwaizumi’s face burns in the afterglow, head ducked a little as he mumbles out a similar reply. Oikawa keeps his laughter tucked behind his grin and buries into the crook of the other’s neck, sighing softly.

Perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> [writing tumblr](http://genkigratification.tumblr.com)


End file.
